


Beast Heart

by At_a_klance (TomAyto10)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Space, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Falling In Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Kissing, M/M, Non-human characters, Pilots, Revolution, Shapeshifting, Slow Burn, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-07 05:24:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8784883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/pseuds/At_a_klance
Summary: Lance is given the task of taming the rabid beast that was brought from the deserts of Kinedar. He is not sure if he's the man for the job.





	1. Red I : The Red Sky

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn. Please be advised.

 

The sickness came on much too fast.

 

Lance watches helplessly as his father coughs and coughs until the sound became normal to his ears, became a reassurance that Apa was, at least, still alive.

Lance is 17 years old, and with his father deathly ill, he becomes the breadwinner of his family of seven.

“It's the damn planet.”

His uncle tells him over the com screen and Lance wrinkles his nose at the comment. Uncle Rodri is always saying that. The public calls office is alive with chatter, different lilting languages and ringing laughter and Lance fixes the Com’s earphones, scratching away at the dust that dirties the screen. “He should've stayed here on Almeza, instead of going there.” Rodri continues.

“That doesn't matter now, Tio.” Lance snaps back and then shifts uncomfortably when his uncle’s gaze goes sharp. _Of course, Almeza would be nice_ , Lance thinks, their home planet, their people, with waters so deep and vast you can't begin to see where the oceans end.

Kinedar is nothing like that. The only thing neverending here is that dust that coats everything and the desperation of survival.

“You should come, Lance.” Rodri continues, and he slumps slightly, shoulders dropping on the screen, his eyes tired and Lance suddenly misses him. Or perhaps he misses someone strong being able to take the burden of responsibility from him.

Lance feels so tired these days.

Rodri leans closer to the screen, and when he speaks again, it's in Mezena, their native tongue, like that might help convince him. “You can make that decision, Lance. Come here for awhile. I can get you a job. For you and Teresa.” Rodri seems to be getting excited at the prospect. “Do you even remember Almeza?  The air is clean and my outpost could help my brother. It will be better for him, Lance.”

But Lance is shaking his head, at the faded memories of beaches and endless blue and his uncle’s pleading. “Apa inherited this.” It's second-hand pride and a certain stubbornness that runs in the family. “He doesn't want to leave. And he wouldn't want me to leave either.”

“How long is your father's savings going to last then? How long do to think you can stay there, without anyone working.” He sounds annoyed and agitated, and Lance wants to let himself be angry at his tone. He has no idea how hard everything is, how many nights Lance has stayed awake thinking of this exact question. And when he had found the solution, the night of dread and dreams that slipped through his fingers.

“Don't worry,” Lance says, and he doesn't recognize his own voice, distant and numb now as he says the words. “I’m going to take Apa’s job at the Colosseum.”

Rodri’s eyes go wide as he takes a sharp intake of breath. He leans closer to the camera, his expression filling the screen, mouth trembling. “No, Lance! That's dangerous. You don't-”

Lance ducks away, and he shifts over to Mezena too, feeling like eyes are on him, “Apa has been training me since I was a kid, I can handle it, Tio”

Rodri’s eyes are hard when Lance looks back up, and even in the pixelated cheap public com, his expression makes Lance afraid of his own decision. “You don't have to do this! You're _young_ , Lance. Finish school, then join the GNF. You swore you would be a pilot. You can still-”

Lance can feel tears filling his eyes, his jaw going tight. _Yes_. Yes, he wanted to be a pilot, wanted to explore the ocean of stars that covered the night sky and see everything the universe had to offer him. But, this is life. His father deadly sick, his mother beside herself with worry, his grandmother growing more distant and older by the day, his sister with a child, and a little brother whose life is falling apart around his childhood.

His dreams matter the least here.

“Have you told your ma? Did she agree?” Lance nods, sullen and blinking back the wet of his eyelashes. “Yeah. I quit school and told her. She… she agrees now.”

They had fought about it, cried and fought again. When he came home with the exit forms for her to sign, she had locked herself in the bathroom for hours and wouldn't look at his face for days. But she understood. And Lance understood that her anger wasn't at him, but at herself, at their life.

“I don't agree, Lance! Teresa dropped out because of the baby and now you're dropping out too? Listen, I have some money. I'll send for you. You can finish school and work here on the base, part time. Then you can send funds back. It'll be fi-”

Lance feels the explosion well up too fast for him to pull it back. He slams his hands on the digital pad of the Com and snarls. “You don't get it! _Lorenzo_ left. _You_ left! And now you're asking _me_ to leave too? To abandon everyone?”

Rodri goes quiet, shocked by the way his mouth opens wordlessly, but then he straightens and Lance can see his shift into strict military professionalism.

“No. I want you to let me help you. I can't travel to Kinedar, I need to stay, but _you_ could come here. Vanessa and I can take care of you while you get back on your feet.

“All of us? Not just me?"

Rodri winces but then his mouth goes hard and he nods once. Lance looks down at his hands. He wants to accept, wants to run to his uncle and shove all his burdens onto his capable military shoulders but…

“I can do it,” Lance says and looks up, blinking and swallowing hard. “Apa is going to get better, I'm just gonna be in charge for a while.” he grins, a real genuine smirk in the middle of swarming doubts, wanting to reassure his frowning uncle, “C’mon, I'm Lance. Its no problem. I can hold us afloat.”

Rodri sighs, and Lance can tell he's given up for now. “Lance, talk to your Ama about coming, okay? Promise me.”

Lance breathes in, and then nods, once. “Yeah, yeah. I'll talk to her. Don't worry.”

The time is ticking down on his call, and Lance begins preparing to leave.

“Wait, Lance.” Rodri calls out and his eyes look vulnerable, shifting as if unable to focus on his face. “Yeah?”

“I… I love you. All of you. I'm sorry… I'm sorry I'm not there. That I left. And that Lorenzo …”

Lance shakes his head, “No, Tio, I'm sorry. I didn't  mean to… I get it okay. You wanted to leave. To… better things. Enzo too. It's… all good. I'm sorry I said that…”

Rodri sighs, looking older than his 23 years of age. Lance can remember looking up to him, can remember running down sun-warmed sands and racing to far off distances in the ocean.

Everything is so different now.

“I will always be your family. I promise, as soon as I can, I'll come. If… if something… happens. I'll be there, Lance.”

He doesn't say, ‘ _If my brother dies’_ but it hangs in the air, the possibility, too close and too real.

“Okay. I.. yeah. I'll keep in touch.”

Rodri mouth goes soft. “You've become a man, Lance. Lorenzo must be proud.”

Lance swallows hard and watches the timer countdown. “Of course. It's _me_! The gem of the family.”

And when the call clicks off, it's to Rodri’s laughter instead of tears.

 

* * *

Mateo waves at him from the doorstep of Hacienda Entales, looking small in front of the two heavy steel gates keeping those passing by from peeking in. Santa, a Kinedar native rat, pants next to him. In the sun his fur looks almost white and his buggy eyes shine with tears. It's an ugly thing that's attached to Mateo, and kind of cute if you squint your eyes.

“What are you doing out here,” Lance says, walking onto crumbling step.

Mateo, eight, darker and skinnier then even Lance was at that age, folds his arms and leans them against his knobby knees, “I got in trouble.”

Lance sighs and sits next to the rat, absentmindedly reaching down to pet the thing. “Did you fight with Lulu again?"

Mateo tenses up and Lance prepares for the ranting. “She started it! She hit me first and she was gonna get away with it cause she’s the baby. It's so not fair, Lance!” he tucks his head to his chest, fuming. “I hate her.”

Lance leans back on his arm, looking up at the sky. It's always this dusty red color, and it reminds him of the blood stained tissues his father spits into on a daily basis. He looks away. “Relax .” he begins and closes his eyes against the heat of the two suns, “and don't say that. Don't lie and say you hate Lulu.”

“But I do! I _hate_ her!”

Lance moves a hand to flick at his nose and Mateo gasps. “No, you don't. She annoys you, I get that but you love her. She's your little niece, and you protect her and care for her. Family comes first, Teo.” he hunches forward and takes the same posture as his little brother, leaning heavy on his knees. “and with Apa sick, you need to take care of things here when I'm not around. Got it? I'm trusting you, Teo.”

Mateo doesn't meet his eye for a long moment, but then he looks up and nods, once, just like his uncle, just like him earlier.

It must be in their blood.

“But.” Mateo is still pouting, but his posture has shifted. “I still don't like her. She is really annoying.”

Lance laughs then gets to his feet and kicks lightly at his brother, who cries out indignantly, little fists curling into what eight-year-olds think is menacing.

“You're annoying too, but I love you always,” Lance says, and then knocks a closed fist gently to his head.

Mateo frowns, obviously still contemplating revenge, but then the heavy steel door swings open with a groan and Mother sticks her head out.

“Mateo Alejandro, get back inside right now,” she says to Mateo, who jumps to his feet, leaving his payback for some other time. His mother turns dark olive eyes to Lance, who feels like he's done something wrong, and he backtracks the last couple of hours to find out what it is.

Mother lets Mateo rush passed her, but she doesn't turn to follow him, instead, moving past the edge and onto the front step.

Mother seems to be getting shorter and wider each year. She barely comes to his chest now, and he's big enough that he can carry and swing her around with ease.

“Did you talk with Rodrigo?”

Lance nods, pulls at his old wrinkled shirt, nervously. She's saying it in Mazena, seemingly not having the patience to speak with her accented Galac. “

“Well, is he coming?”

Lance knows that this will be a fight, and he'd rather lay out in a burn pit in the Mallek Desert then be in the middle of this feud but, this conversation would be better done away from Apa.

“He can't come. He can't take his military leave for another 4 months.”

Mother’s hands go up in the air and for a moment, Lance thinks he might hear the first curse to ever pass her lips. But no, she murmurs “ _Por dios_ ” and Lance sees the fire in her eyes. “He can't come for awhile? At all? That boy! We raised him and now that he's important, family comes secondary.”

Lance winces, wants to defend Rodri but also wants to agree. It's impossible for him to find his footing. “He's going to come as soon as he can, Ama. He's going to send money. He really does want to help.”

“By staying on Almeza? By not coming?”

Lance bites at his lips, not finding words. He doesn't know how to tell her that Rodri is willing to lodge them. Besides, even though Rodri might be willing to have them over, Vanessa, his beautiful new wife might not agree.

“Oh? What is it?" She catches his look, "What did Rodri suggest? He always had the solutions to everything.”

Lance sighs at her tone, “He wants us to come. Says he'll take care of us for awhile.”

She pauses and Lance waits for her outburst.

“Leave Entales? He wants us to leave the place your father has worked so hard to rebuild? Our legacy?”

Lance looks over to the winged lion engraved in the steel door, faded and red with rust, but still majestic. 

“For awhile, I guess,” he mumbles. He wants the conversation to be over already, wants to retreat to his room and stuff his head into this pillow and take a breath. Maybe take a nap and dream of who he could've been but Mother seems like she's on the brink of eruption and relief looks nowhere in sight. She surprises him, though.

“What do _you_ think, Mijo?”

Lance pauses, stilled by the question and he shrugs. “I don't know, Ama. Rodri is right. Kinedar doesn't have anything for us anymore.”

“This is our home now. Your father sacrificed so much for us to be here.”

“You mean we sacrificed so much.” He mumbles and then regrets.

Mother gives him a harsh look and Lance looks away. “I didn't teach you to speak under your breath, Lance.”

Lance picks at his shirt again. “I'm not saying that we should leave, but you should consider it at least. If… Apa can't get the medicine the Pharma said, then maybe he will have to go.”

Mother reaches out to touch his hand, and even though the touch is supposed to be reassuring, he fights the urge to pull it away.

“I know this is hard. I know you didn't want to work for the lord. You still don't have too…”

"Stop.” Lance starts and he does pull away this time. “I made my decision. We both know it's the best thing I could do. Stop saying that.”

Lance tries to step around her, but she blocks the steel door. “Hijo.”

Lance doesn't want to talk, his nerves are tight and he feels a simmering anger. He does not want to talk. He wants to leave. Leave the house, leave their hacienda, leave the planet, be a million miles away from everything.

“I'm tired, Ama.” he says in Mezena for emphasis, “Can we talk later?”

Any other time, she would demand they sit and chat, but with everything going on, she has mercy.

“Later, pues.” She concedes and moves away so he can shove the gate open and step into their home.

 

Hacienda Entales stands proud and regal as Lance makes his way down the familiar dusty path. Starving little bushes line the rock pathway, dark green accents among the eternal brown and red of the landscape.

The house, with it's soft beige stucco walls and rounded edges, used to make Lance inexplicably fond, but he's so drained that he doesn't take a give it a second glance now. The rose bushes in the front are dying, a little more every day and when he passes them, he looks over his shoulder at his mother.

She seems to know what he's waiting for because she passes by them too, not looking at them and heads in the courtyard patio and then disappears into the main house.

Lance looks at the roses. They can't afford the special fertilizer for Alemezian plants anymore, and the leaves are starting to curl with death, shrinking under the heat.

He can relate.

He knows that his mother holds these thorn bushes like a reminder of her home, of the same place his uncle made him recall. Almeza is mostly islands and beaches and rich color. Everywhere he looked on Almeza, there would be splashs of color like throwing paint into the wind. And the water, the eternal oceans. He always loved the water, and his love of it only intensified being on this planet, since it was scarce and precious, every single drop.

His thoughts break when a high pitched squeal sounds from the courtyard, and then a small body runs into him, wrapping around his legs.

Lance shouts in surprise, and then sighs, a bit charmed, a bit exasperated. “Lulu, what is it? What's wrong?”

The little girl raises her face, freckles, and cherubic cheeks, and dark olive curls, a picture of utmost innocence at six years old.

Lance knows better.

“Teo is trying to hit me!” Lucia says, voice high, keening with panic

As if on cue, Mateo runs into the entryway, and he looks furious.

“Lulu, I'm gonna-”

Lance snatches him by the collar before he can swing around his legs and get his hands on Lucia.

“Hey.” Lance barks and Mateo makes a terrible, aggravated sound. “Teo, what did we _just_ talk about?”

The boy is breathing hard, squirming to get out of Lance's grip. “She ate my candy! It wasn't hers! It was my candy and she ate it.” he pulls away, swiping at the girl, and Lucia expertly dodges. Mateo screams in frustration. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Lucia, now realizing how infuriated Mateo really is and how grave her sin was, starts crying. Not the loud bawling that she does when she wants attention but the silent lip biting type.

Mateo somehow gets even angrier. “Stop crying! You always cry! You're such a stupid crybaby!” but his voice breaks and trembles and hot tears spill over his eyes and drip down his cheeks.

Lance tightens his jaw and crouches down to both of them.

He feels it too, the tension in their home, the tight ache of holding himself together. It's unfair that children as young as eight and six have to do it too.

“C’mere.” He says and brings both children into an embrace. That breaks the dam, and the children sob into his shoulder, exhausted of holding them in. They are so little, shaking as they cry and Lance winds tighter, blinking suddenly wet eyes. He remembers his older brother doing something like this once, a rare show of consideration. Lorenzo was always looking up, always seeing the future and yearning for it, and Lance never thought he ever made his sight. When he took off, it shouldn't have been a surprise.

But that hug, Lance still remembers it, being held in Lorenzo’s arms as he sobbed for something, that is something he will never forget it.

He wonders where Lorenzo is, and if, wherever he is, he's thinking of them.

He pats the heads and pulls away. They look an utter mess and Lance uses his shirt hem to wipe away snot and tears. Mateo pretends that he didn't cry as hard as he did but his eyes are rimmed red.

“Mira, Lulu, if you ate Teo’s candy, then you owe him candy. I know you have some hidden in your room. You can either give it to him yourself, or I can go and tell Ama you're stealing and then she'll go and take _all_  your candy.”

Lulu goes from sobbing mess to indignant in a matter of seconds, “But!”

Lance doesn't let her finish, “Make a decision, I'm counting to five.”

“Tio!”

“One”

Lucia stubbornly stands for the count, and she pouts for effect but when Lance reaches “Four” and stands from his haunches, she takes off like a small disaster into the courtyard patio.

Lance smiles, and Mateo snorts unimpressed at his side. “She's gonna give me yucky candy, I just know it.”

Lance knocks the side if his head gently, “and you're gonna accept it graciously and says, ‘ _Thank you, Lulu, I forgive you_.’”

“No way!”

Lance reaches over and tickles at his side and the smile that breaks over his face is heartwarming. Mateo is too serious of a child these days, pretending to be older than he actually is. He's loads more mature than Lance was at that age. “Lance, stop! Lan-”

Lance picks him up and though he would think Mateo would protest because he always does, because _he's not a baby anymore_ , but now he only clings to his shoulders, sagging as if he's carrying the weight of the world.

The courtyard is too clean, amber tiled floor almost shining and Lance looks around for his grandmother. She's must've swept recently, but doesn't seem to be around. Lance passes the old fountain that hasn't seen water since the last rain about a year ago and climbs up the three steps into the main house.

He can hear his mother in the kitchen, talking softly with his grandmother, no doubt about his conversation with Rodrigo.

Santa runs down the hallway, his claws clicking against the red painted cement floors. Mateo struggles in his hold and Lance slides him down his hip before dropping him to the floor. Santa runs around his feet and Mateo leans over to pick him up, and the animal curls in his hold.

Technically, Santa had been a project for Lance a couple of years ago, but the rat had never taken a liking to him. It didn't forebode well to his natural knack for beast taming, and Lance hoped that that was not the case, and that he had inherited at least a little bit from his father.

He hadn't cared before if he was good at the job his family had been doing for generations because that was Lorenzo’s place to carry on. But Lorenzo left, and Teresa had Lucia, and for a while, Lance had hoped that Mateo would show his interest in beast taming and take the responsibility.  

But that was unfair and cowardly. He had to face it now. He was the only one left.

Lucia comes down the hallway, curls bouncing and dark eyes averted. She all but shoves a wrapped candy into Mateo’s hand, which he fumbles because of the rat in his arms.

“Here, pues,” she says, but her mouth is trembling. “Sorry, I ate your candy, Teo.”

Mateo puts Santa on the ground and then looks at the candy. It's chocolate, an off planet product because they can't grow cocoa on Kinedar. Mateo unwraps it as if to make sure that Lucia isn't trying to trick him, but the chocolate smells rich, dark brown even against Mateo’s dark tan.

Mateo looks at Lucia for a long second. She keeps her gaze primly away, but when Mateo breaks the chocolate in half, she turns back with a gasp.  

He hands the piece to her, frowning like he does over his study work. “I'm not gonna eat it all,” he mutters, shy in his kindness.

Lance huffs and pats his head. Lucia takes the piece, bites at the corner, eyes blinking at the taste. Mateo turns to him then, breaks off another piece, but Lance stops him by shaking his head.

“No way am I eating your chocolate, Teo.”

Mateo frowns harder. “Is this about your face again.”

Lance laughs, “Yeah! All that sugar makes me break out you know. I can't have that.”

Mateo shrugs and bites at the candy. Lance can imagine how it tastes, rich and decadent, and he's tempted to take a piece. But those candies are precious these days and he's going to make sure Mateo and Lucia don't have to sacrifice.

“Okay, you better go before Ama catches you eating before dinner, go play. And be nice.”

Mateo stuffs the rest of his piece in his mouth and then asks with a full mouth.

“Can you play with us?”

Lance shakes his head. “I have to go talk to Apa.” Mateo’s face goes serious again, and he nods. He turns to Lucia and reaches for her hand naturally, and she takes it, her mouth stained with chocolate. They begin down the hallway, but start running after a few steps, like children always tend to do.

Lance watches them go, and his determination grows tenfold.

He always wanted to leave. It would now be selfish to want, to desire to be something, or live to make himself known to everyone. He was like that, is like that. Even on the streets of Almeza, he remembers telling people of the things he would do. Change the universe, save planets.

The Galatic Naval Base Headquarters on Almeza, Alas, had made him dream. When he saw the pilots come into town, he would sit among them, fetching them beers, fried hogs skin, or toasted plantains, listening to their stories. Stories of far off planets, and alien species, so different from humans. _Space was never ending_ , they used to tell him, _even if you explored your whole life, you'll never come close to seeing it all._

Lance had thought to himself at that time, I will. He had naively pointed at himself and told them point blank that he was going to discover the whole universe. They had laughed, and Lance hadn't minded because he would. He would.

But now, he won't.

They had left Almeza for a legacy left here on Kinedar, and as the years passed, his naivety slipped away like his determined hold on his dreams.

And now he really has to let go, like sand passing through his fingers.

Mateo and Lucia disappear from sight, Santa on their tail, and Lance grabs onto to image instead. His family needs him, here and now. Lance turns away, headed deeper into the house to speak with his father.

 

 

Father's room is the one farthest away from the kitchen, meaning the one most devoid of noise. It used to be a sewing room, where his grandmother used to make dust guards, ornately embroidered ponchos that protected from the swirling dirt. Her hands shake too much to make them anymore.

The sun hits warm here, the windows on the far back wall and the one to the left fill the room up with yellow, but the curtains are drawn now, the room is almost cold. It smells clinical, too clean and sharp, and his father sits still in the bed.

Lance tentatively opens the door, and his father looks up from his hands, and Lance smiles wide, a false one, but he tries.

“How you feelin’?”

Father also gives him a false smile. Lance wonders if he's that obvious too. “I'm fine.” he lies and Lance nods as if he believes him.  

He closes the door behind him, the old wood creaking as it shuts and Lance steps over to the bed.

His father looks pale, his dark skin an odd sallow color, and his shoulders look bony under the sleeping robe. He has lost so much weight in the month he's been sick. He was a heavy weighted man, with a thick figure and broad shoulders, but now he seems so utterly breakable. Tension laces the air, and Lance swallows hard against it.

“How's my brother?”

Lance settles in the chair by the bed, and cups over his knees. “He's okay. Happy he's married.”

He nods. “Is she a nice girl? Have you met her?”

“Saw her picture. She's pretty. And nice he says.”

Father closes his eyes, leans back on the headboard, and sighs with almost relief.

“Is he coming?” He asks after a silent long moment.

Lance tightens his jaw. “No.”

“Mhmm.”

He still has his eyes closed, head tilted back and the chemical light bathes his sickly skin.

“I didn't think he would come.”

“He wants us to-” Lance begins and then pauses because he doesn't know how his father will react to the news. He's stubborn as a desert canine, animals that won't leave their nest even when their burrows fill with flood waters. He might tell them to leave him there. _Go to Almeza_ , he might say, _I'll be fine_.

He won't be fine and Lance bites his tongue.  

“He wants us to what?”

Lance fiddles with his shirt again, wet from the kid snot and tears. Gross.

“He wants us to take money. From him. He says he'll send some over.”

“Whatever he sends won't be enough to provide for us.”

“I know, Apa.” Lance mummers. “But it'll help. And with the money I'll earn from the Colosseum, we'll be fine.”

At that, his father opens his eyes, and bright blue settles over him. Lance doesn't look away from them, like looking in a mirror, his reflection in the water. He never turns away from water.

“Temo was here earlier. He told me that you could start tomorrow.”

Lance swallows hard, dread pooling in his stomach. “Tomorrow? I-” he voice shook, but he coughed and then continues on stronger. “I don't have a trainers suit. Or a belt. Don't I-”

The father struggles with lifting his arm and points to a box in the corner of the room. “Get that for me, Hijo.”

Lance stands and picks up the box nails tapping against plastic. “What's in this?”

“Open it.”

Lance does, pops the lid open and sinks his hands in. The material is rough and heavy as he pulls it out, a soft caramel brown and thick under his hands. “What's this?”

His father looks proud. “Your new suit, I had Temo bring it. It's brand new, we'll pay him later. And you can use my belt.”

Lance shakes it out, the material stiff with newness. It's a jumpsuit, with a zipper in front that cinches from the throat to crotch  He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Wow. This is… awesome.”

“Double layered and triple stitched, the arms have a layer in the sleeve to put a bite guard.” Lance fingers the zippers, there is about six or seven pockets as he father goes on.

The pressure is suddenly overbearing and his fingers curl in the outfit, knuckles almost white.

“It's great, Apa.” he says, his voice weak.

“The belts in the box too. You have to grease it often to keep the leather fresh. It's old leather. Real. Not that synthetic stuff.”

Lance nods, licking his lips and gently placing the jumpsuit back into the box. “I will. I'll take care of it, Apa.”

He smiles, and then his shoulders shake as he coughs, bringing up a handkerchief to his mouth, muffling the sound scraping up his throat.

Lance's heart squeezes tight, his breath stalled in his chest.

“Apa?” he drops the box and comes to his side, his body shaking. He's leaning over in pain, and Lance can see the sickening knobs of his spine.

His mother sweeps in the room as a machine in the room rings loud and alarming.

“Go, Lance,” she says gently, putting her hand on his arm and Lance jolts at the how cold she feels. She helps father lay back down and pulls away the handkerchief. It's stained red, like the sky, like the painted cement floors and the desert that surrounds them.

Lance hates the color.

He does go, gathering the box in his trembling arms. Mateo and Lucia are running in the courtyard, around and around the empty fountain, and Lance avoids looking at them too long. His vision is swimming, water filling his eyes faster than he can blink them away.

His room is bathed in light when he enters, and he drops the box on his bed and then pushes the window open.

He climbs out and then up a ladder that hangs there. The roof is smooth and hot the touch but Lance lays out anyways, wincing when his exposed skin touches the heated rooftop.

Brillo, the western sun, dips lazily to the horizon, and it's sister, Estrena, follows with blazing fire.

The sky goes red and Lance lays there, the dust settles over his lips and eyelashes, and as much as he wipes away at it, it's in every nook and cranny of his being, gathering gritty in all the creases of his body. He hates it, the red skies and the red dirt and the blood from his father's mouth.

He misses the ocean trees and family. He misses being a child and dreaming of striding up the stairs of the galactic naval base and earning his wings.

Tonight is the last night he can dream, and guilty wish he was someone else, someplace else. He feels sick with how selfish it feels, his stomach turns at the thought of leaving his mother and father and making Mateo and Lucia go through the same bullshit he had to go through when Lorenzo left, or leave the brunt of work to his sister Teresa.

Tomorrow when the sun rises, he really let go of it all. His family needs him.

Lance doesn't let himself cry, only blinks at the cruel unwavering pair suns until they disappear and lets night take over the day. He sits up there until his mother calls him for dinner and by the time he's inside, his smile is full and wide, and he excitedly shows her the jumpsuit, his new uniform. Soon enough, the smile will be real.

 


	2. Red II: In the Shadow of the Colosseum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance dreams, as he always does, of what might come to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like sci-fi. I am honestly not excellent at it but I am just having fun. Thank you for reading

He wakes too early, if you can call it waking.

He didn't sleep much, more restless tossing and turning than actually slumber, and he's frustrated by the time the multi-tech on his cot stand rings his morning alarm. He lays there for a moment, dread heavy in his bones, and he has a sudden urge to feign sickness, to delay the inevitable by one more day.

This time last week, he would be frantically trying to get assignments done, or studying for a test, working so hard to keep his near-perfect grades for eligibility into the galactic navy.

But now that he's quit school, joining the naval force is pretty much a pipe dream.

Frist dawn is breaking through the window, and the night it's always frigid cold. He curls in his cot, like a cat shivering under blankets, closing his eyes and wishing for just one second of relief from his ever wandering thoughts.

_Get up_ , he tells himself but he lacks any motivation, and when his multi-tech rings a second time he groans low and long.

“Okay, okay. Got it. I'm up.” he says and the multi-tech purrs and shut off at the voice confirmation.

Lance flings off the blanket, his skin prickling instantly as the chilly air assaults him, and he groans again, louder. He feels so heavy with dread but he begrudgingly gets to his feet.

Today is the day, no? He's an adult now, and no matter his age, he has sudden overwhelming responsibilities. Delaying like this is for yesterday's Lance, not today's.

He trudges out of his room and into the hallway, the air colder and so sharp, it cuts into his lungs with every breath.

When he shambles into the bathroom, he's no longer groggy, and he strips quickly as he lets a bucket of water fill.

He plunges his hand into the semi-warm water, grabbing a ragged old scrub rag and crouching down, he begins washing.

The water only chills his already freezing skin, but the friction is nice. He rubs into creases, trying to get rid of that layer of dust that coats him all the time. He scrubs until he feels clean, prickling fresh and stinging. He throws water on his face, brushes his teeth and dampens his hair. He's  tempted to wash the loose thin brown flop but forgoes it. There might not be enough water.

The room is warmer, now that Estrena, the second sun is rising, Lance stands stretching long and unashamed, looking down at his figure to make sure he hadn't missed anything. He finishes by rubbing down the aloe slave to protect from the suns and then he's pulling on a housecoat and taking his bucket of used water to pour carefully over the Almazian rosebushes.

He can smell bread cooking, and the tantalizing zing of onions and garlic sizzling and he hopes that his mother got at least a little bit of sleep to be up this early in the morning.

When he makes it to his room, sunlight almost blinding now that second dawn is rising steadily.

He pulls on underwear, shorts, socks and a thin breathable cotton shirt, before going to the box.

The jumpsuit is cold in his hands and he shakes it out of the box. It's a thick cotton on the shoulders and torso, but interwoven with a smooth skin fitting elastic underneath. He slips it on and as he zips it up he wonders if it's supposed to be this form fitting. It grips tight at his thighs and shoulders, but as he stretches in it, the jumpsuit moves with him and overall feels comfortable. It will have to do. He laces up his boots that cinch over calves, and then stuffs the leather utility belt into a travel bag before leaving his room to head to the kitchen.

The courtyard is swirling with red dust, already, the empty fountain glinting in the rising two suns. The light is blinding, make Lance bow his head as he heads into the main house.

The indoor kitchenette is empty, and Lance steps out the back to the stone covered patio where the outdoor kitchen glows in the morning suns.

He's surprised when he doesn't see his mom cooking there, instead it's his grandmother. She grinds coffee beans in a molcajete, the smell of café mixing with the onions and garlic sizzling in the pan over an open fire on the rock stove.

“Abue.” Lance saddles up to her, swings an arm around her waist and kisses her cheek. “Good Mornin'.”

She pats his cheek and gets him to work, cracking eggs over the pan.

“So today you go to the city,” she says over the rhythmic sound of stone rolling over stone and the crunch of beans giving under the pressure. Her Mezena is so soft and low, her words accented with something even more ancient than anything Lance has ever heard, echoing in the sunlit kitchen.

“Yep.” Lance says, sticking a wooden spoon into the pan and turning the eggs. “I'm… excited.” he lies.

She doesn't speak for a long moment, the morning air only broken by the sound of her gathering the coffee and a stray desert sparrow chirping in the air.

“You are strong.” she says, not looking at him, and Lance turns from the food to wonder at her. “You will be fine.”

Lance swallows hard, and then looks at the pan. The fowleggs are light and fluffy now, and Lance pulls them off the stove.

He wants to tell her that he's not really that strong. That he wants to desperately stay here, with her in this kitchen than to travel an hour north to the dark city.

Lance always thought himself adventurous, always wanted to see, to experience everything. So why does his heart feel like it's stuck in his throat, and his stomach heavy with this uncharacteristic weight of fear.

Before he can answer her, someone comes out of the house and slams the door closed loud.

His older sister, a slender figure with dark hair and eyes donning a sundress, comes sauntering into the kitchen. She kisses their grandmother and then grabs a fruit from the counter, biting it quickly.

“Teresa!?” Lance exclaims surprised, “What are _you_ doing up so early?”

Teresa, showing her great maturity sticks her tongue out at him. Lance complains loudly about her food-filled mouth. “Oh saints! _Gross_.”

“It's Lucia’s evaluation today.” Teresa explains ignoring how dramatic Lance is being. “ I asked for a reprieve.”

Lance pauses in reaching for the rich cactus fruit in the basket on the counter. “Eval? Today? Why am I just hearing about this.”

Teresa chews for a moment, “You've been busy, little bro.”

Lance jumps on the counter, crunching down on the blood red fruit.  “Yeah. But someone should've told me.” He looks over her, her sudden tight strained face. “What are you looking so worried for? Lulu is fluent in three languages.”

Teresa leans against the counter, sighing. “I'm not worried about academics.”

“Stability, then? Are you serious?”

“You and Mateo are the only ones that graded stable among us. You think Lulu has a chance?”

Lance shrugs, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I say you shouldn't worry about it.”

Teresa isn't impressed or relieved. “It's my job to worry. With a ungraded father and a mother on a galaxy sentence… they're going to figure it out.”

“How? No _way_ , listen. They don't know that Lulu is your daughter and not your sister. They won't care enough to check.”

“and if they do? They'll mark her. It'll be my fuckin’ fault.” she threw the chewed pit into a compost bin by the stone sink. “even if they don't find out, our home situation sucks anyway. No one in this house has finished higher schooling. You dropped out and Apa is sick and everything sucks so bad.”

“Hey, I'm the one that panics in this family not you” Lance counters, frowning. “They won't know. Relax. Lulu will do great. She'll be marked fine and then you would've done all this worrying for nothing.”

Teresa crosses her arms, mouth a thin straight line. We’ll see.” she says but Lance jumps off the counter and then bumps her with his hip. “Hey, half the battle is believing. C’mon. I practically raised Lulu, she learned all my tricks. She’ll pass with flying colors .

Teresa rolls her eyes and then looks over him in his new attire. “That's what I'm afraid of, little bro.” she reaches out and pinches the brown material on his shoulder. “Did they give you the tightest size or something? I can see your bones.”

“You can _not_!” Lance exclaims. “That's muscle! Muscle!”

“At least your ass looks like something in this thing. Instead of a flat flapjack.”

Lance sputters,“I'll have you know that both my ass and flapjacks are most offended by that comment.”

Abuela slaps at him to get off the counter. “If all you two are doing is yappin’ then come and help me make breakfast.”

Teresa smiles at Lance, “Good luck today, little bro.” and Lance nods. He wonders if she knows how he feels.

“Yeah, good luck to you too, even though you don't need it.  ‘Cause everything will be _fine_.” She huffs but then begins cleaning cacti meat on the counter.

Lance sticks around for a bit, helps his grandmother by carrying a heavy broth filled pot from one end of the kitchen to the other and then announces that he has to go. Abuela forces a fowlegg and squash flower stuffed torta into his hand before he leaves and he repays it with a hug and sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“May Alavaleo give you wisdom and peace.” she says in sweet soft Mezena and then touches the middle of his palms from which all quintessence flows. Lance nods, forcing his face not to show his bottled emotions.

With a wave to Teresa, grabbing his bag with his lunch and belt, he leaves the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Lance skips over to where he keeps his desert hovercraft that he built himself with scraps, odd and ends and lots of love. He's surprised for the second time this morning when he sees a shape sitting by the vehicle shed.

Mateo is waiting for him at his hoverbike, Santa sleeping at his feet.

“Why is everyone up so early today...” Lance exclaims, muffled with food in his mouth.

Mateo looks up at him seriously as he approaches.  “I thought you were going to oversleep.”

Lance scoffs. “No way. I'm responsible.” He offers the rest of his sandwich to the boy, but Mateo only shakes his head.

Lance uncovers the bike, dropping the dust tarp to the floor and then affectionately pats the bike on the bars.

In Schooling, he had taken what was called old planet engineering taught by a young friendly upperclassman of his. Lance had worked hard to build the bike, and though it didn't gleam like the modern sweeps that sometimes zoomed through their little town, he loved his bike. He flips on the anti-gravity pads, the bike humming loudly and then rising up off the red ground as if being dangled by invisible ropes.

“You just here to see Blue, then?”

Mateo still only sits there, petting the snoozing rat. “Ooookay.” Lance continues, and goes through a preliminary maintenance check while chewing his sandwich. He can feel Mateo’s eyes on him, but he doesn't bother to talk. Whatever is bothering him, he will probably say it.

Blue will be his lifeline while in the city. And although she is mostly reliable, the parts he built her with aren't.  If she breaks down while he's on the path, or in the city, he'll be stuck. He would hate that.

Lance finally claps his hands together to rid himself of the dirt gathering between his fingers and secures his travel bag over his shoulder and torso better.

“Okay, gimme some luck, Teo. I gotta go.”

He opens his arms, an obvious gesture for a hug, hopefully it will appease whatever Mateo is struggling with. His hugs have magical powers, his grandmother always says.

Mateo stands up from the floor and looks at him, his face almost blank, appraising.  And then tears are overflowing his face and he shivers as if cold in the light of two dawning suns.

“Teo?” Lance immediately frowns, concerned. “What's-”

“Don't go!” Mateo shouts and then he's  rushing over the few steps to hug around Lance's middle. “Don't go, Lance!” he repeats, his voice rising high and clear.

Lance grabs his shoulder and pulls him away to take stock of his expression. “What? What's a matter Teo, what's going on?”

Teo looks down at his feet and whispers. It feels delicate and thin after his shouting. “Just don't go. I don't want you to go.”

Lance puts the half-finished sandwich still in his hands on the seat of his hoverbike, and crouches down again. Mateo still won't look at him. “What are you scared of? Why don't you want me to go?”

Mateo’s lip trembles, his fist curls at his sides. It reminds Lance of himself, not too long ago, Lorenzo standing on the porch of their home on the beach on Almeza, and Lance begging him to stay.

Lorenzo hadn't.

“I'm not leaving you guys,” Lance says, pushing the memory away. “I would never leave you guys. Is that what you're scared of?”

Mateo shakes his head. Lance sighs. “Then what is it.”

“Sick.” Mateo mutters and Lance frowns.

“What's sick?” he asks even though he suddenly knows where this conversation is headed.

“You'll get sick. Like Papi.”

Lance swallows back sudden bile rising in his throat, “I…”

He can't even make promises. It might, it could happen. Or worse, he could be bitten, or poisoned or eaten. It's terrible, it's frightening and the thought of it makes his stomach drop into ice cold emptiness. The fowlegg and bread in his stomach threatens to come up again.

“Teo, that's not something you should be worried about.” Lance begins, thankful he's on his haunches so that he won't topple over.

Mateo nods absently, hearing but not listening.

Lance stands, feels his legs weak and wobbly with odd nerves. He forces his knees to lock, stands straight and proud.

“Do you really think some dumb animal is gonna get the best of me?”

_It did your father_ , his thoughts whisper like a barbed chain, slithering around his weak constitution. _Do you really think that you can do anything?_

Mateo shakes his head, “Um, I guess not.”

“Exactly! Aren't I, like, the fastest person you know.” Lance goes on, his voice clear of all his growing anxiety.

Mateo smiles, “Nuh-uh! I am! I beat you! I run faster!”

Lance rolls his eyes. “That was one time!”

Mateo shakes his head. “but I still beat you. I'm the fastest.”

“Okay!” Lance makes a big show of throwing his hands in the air, “Okay so I'm the second fastest person. But still way faster than any of the dumb Animal. So, don't worry. If anything tries to bite me I'll just punch him with my megaton punch. It's a super powerful weapon.”

Lance curls his hand, showing his fist to Mateo, who appraising it critically.

The multi-tech in his pocket chimes and Lance stiffens. It's time to go.

“Okay. I'll be back tonight, Teo. I'll tell you about all the animals I wrestle with these two hands. It'll be awesome! Take care of Lulu okay. You're in charge of the Entales!”

Mateo’s shoulders are tense, but Lance hugs him quick and he clings for a second, squeezing him for reassurance. Lance gives him a confident smile and Mateo, finally, looks awed instead of scared. That's better. It's worth it.

Lance pulls on his googles, and then flips on the motor. The bike roars to life, wakes Santa up terribly as engine puffs dirt like a small sandstrom. Lance presses the accelerator, the bike purring in neutral.  

He waves to Mateo, and then looks over the house, where his mother and father sleep, where Teresa is probably waking Lucia, strained smile on her face, where his grandmother is praying to, Alavaleo, the deity lion god of Almeza for his safety and then he finally looks at Mateo, whose eyes are lit up and looking at him.

Lance looks ahead, to the dirt path that winds down their hill and into the street, and speeds forward.

He won't get sick, and he won't get hurt. He'll become the best damn beast tamer in the Trinidad System if it means that he can protect his family.

* * *

 

Saelu-Prima is Kinedar North’s biggest city. It's a city that rises up, and in the center is the breathtaking rock plateau, sloping down to meld with the desert.

But what brings people to Saelu-Prima and to Kinedar itself is The Colosseum.

The Colosseum is a relic from _Peoples Before,_ savage native giants of Kinedar that dwelled on the planet before the galactic empire had taken the Trinidad System. It is an enormous structure that sits upon the plateau and is visible for miles upon miles on the flatlands. Lance had only been there once when his father had a fawxs display, and though he had only been around twelve, more than the winged little canine that his father had trained and showed off, he remembers feeling small and scared at how big and loud the city was.

And now, it'll have to be his second home.

The trip in an easy walking hour from his home, half that by sweep, the peaceful somewhat quiet suburb, and he's not 40 minutes away when he sees light mirages break and the city turns into a far off spot of dark and looming shadows. Lance grips harder on the handles of his bike, pressing on his accelerator.

He remembers the blood of animals, exotic creatures from far off planets, he remembers trying to peek up at the high rafters for alien forms, but most of all he remembers the violence. It had been everywhere, people blood hungry when the EndAll fighters came out, one a huge lumbering beast, arms that dangled to his ankles, with mouth that opened like a flower at the end of his tail, and Lance remembers how he had tore through his opponent beast that looked like his skin was made of stone, and how it screamed and screamed. He also remembered the tamer, standing proud as his monster ate another.

The city rushes to him quick, hitting the morning traffic entering the city.

Saelu-Prima is a city of entertainment, the people often moving there with hopes to either work in the Colosseum or entertaining high elite guests that come from the richer inner galaxy. His father used to tell him to never bet on a fight because the gambling game in Saelu-Prima was much more dangerous than any beast they could ever work with. There were too many stories of tamer showing up dead for rigging beasts.

Lance passes Elthèm, the ancient 30lgth cliff barrier walls that protect the city from invaders. Not that they have an issue with that. Galactic control is iron tight after all.

Lance marvels, riding his bike carefully as he passes the walls, avoiding other sweeps and merchants flying their stalls over the road. The sound of the city of overwhelming city sinks down under his skin with a nervous buzz. Lance holds onto his bike handles tight, swings his bag from his back to across his chest, and maneuvers through the traffic. There is a pattern, a flow that he can't quite catch. After almost crashing several times, distracted by the merchants or confused on what the hell is going on, Lance finally makes it to the plateau on-ramp.

The on-ramp is paved with syntac metal, a human-made imitation of steel that is lighter and stronger than the organic counterpart. Steel has become as rare as water these days.

It winds up the plateau, 300 something lengths in width. On event days, the road up the Colosseum will be packed, filled with people coming to see two beast fight to the death.

Lance isn't going up to the Colosseum today. Instead, he heads down the other road, down into the undercliff of the massive structure. Underneath the Colosseum is a network of rooms, all built by the _Peoples Before_ , affectionately dubbed the honeycomb. Lance had been there with his father before, and he tried to feel confident as he came to the main phase gate to enter.

His stomach drops when he doesn't see Temo waiting there for him.

“Park around the corner.” A Saelu-Prima guard at the phase gate tells him, looking over his uniform and frightened face and grins, “Quatemo told me a skinny foreign was going to come around the gate looking like a scared desert canine. Don't worry, I'll let you in, kid.”

Lance scowls at him, but complies, swinging his sweep passed the phase gate and to a garage that is closed off by an electric field. The field shuts off as he comes upon it and Lance looks up to the guard in his little roost, smiling at him. Kid, he had said, Lance thinks as he parks his bike into a corner. It looks out of place there, among the higher end transport vehicles and sand rovers.

He wishes he was a kid, he wouldn't be here in Saelu-Prima, he'd be in K-city right now with Mateo, with friends and not worrying about getting bitten to death.

Lance comes out of the phase gate and the guard is still grinning as he approaches. Lance is not looking forward to asking for permission to enter the honeycomb.

Luckily, another figure is making their way to the phase gate entrance, and Lance hurries to catch up with them.

It's a large man, hair tied back in a somewhat small ponytail and slick black.

Lance feels a spark of recognition from his sturdy well-paced walk.

“Um,” he says as they make it to the gate at the same time. The guard is saying something from his roost, but Lance ignores it. “Mind if I jump in with you.”

The man smiles and then waves his key card over an omnisensor by the gate “No problem, man. Demis  can be an asshole.”

Lance feels his heart almost burst from excitement.

“Hunk!” Lance exclaims, and the man jumps. “You're- what are you doing here? I thought you were going to the Center somewhere?”

Hunk looks surprised and Lance has a moment of shyness when he realizes that the man might not remember him. But Hunk smiles wider. “You remember me? From that one class?”

Lance walks through the phase gate, and Hunk follows him. “Of course! I took that manual and built my bike from it! Works like charm. You're a genius, big guy!”

Hunk stops and looks over Lance, his smile wavering. Lance freezes. Did he misspeak?

“You built your own bike? Using that? Like, you used the substitute modifier for UV rays too? Instead of B-mea?”

Lance nods, buzzing with the knowledge of knowing someone, understanding something in this wretched strange city. “Yeah, and dude, it works way better, like, yeah it takes forever to charge and I still have to buy B-mea for the anti-grav pads but it works totally. It like, took me two years but it's out in the garage. You should… well I mean it's not a beautiful thing to look at but beauty is in the eye of the beholder anyways. She's my baby.” Lance pauses for a breath. “You wanna see her, like later maybe?”

Hunk looks like he's trying to process everything but when he speaks, he's fighting back the huge smile on his face. “Okay! So, I can totally help you rig the UVR modifier to also include the anti-gravity pads. And yes, I would love to see it. I mean I built one too, and I knew it worked but to hear that my manual taught you how that's like-!” Hunk gesticulates wildly with his hands almost slapping Lance in his excitement, “Crazy wicked awesome?” Lance tries, and Hunk claps him on the shoulder, “Yes! It's crazy wicked awesome. Okay, I have another-” Hunk digs into his bag, frowning as he looks through papers and syntac scraps too apparently because Lance can hear metal clinking. “Ah, maybe I left it at the loft. Anyways, I also worked on how loud it is, you know, the engine. So we could probably work on that too.”

Lance beams at the hint. A friend. Hopefully.

Lance sticks out his hand. “Name’s Lance! I don't know if you remember…”

Hunk nods, and takes his hand. “No, yeah I definitely remember you. Blue eyes and freckles. You climbed up the service pole at school to paint your name on the top. I remember you stayed up there all night so you wouldn't get caught.”

Lance's stomach turns warm at the recognition and then he cringes at the memory. “It was a dare! I couldn't _not_ do it, y’know. But I couldn't get caught either like I was top of my class.”

Lance suddenly stiffens at the reminder. _Was_ top of his class.  

Hunk doesn't mention his mood change if he notices, “and it's Garrett, Hunk. I mean… Hunk is okay too, I guess. I can't believe you guys called me that.

Lance shakes himself and grins easily. “Hey, call it like I see it, right?”

Hunk’s smile at that is worth a million bucks.

They had stopped in the middle of the gate path, ignoring the people passing them, but Hunk starts moving deeper into the honeycomb. “So, here to visit someone?” Hunk is looking over his clothing and he probably knows that no, he's not there to visit anyone, but he must be trying to be polite.

Lance steps beside him easily, and the words just come out. “Nah. I'm working here now. For awhile.”

There. Simple. And, hopefully, true.

“and you? Like, when you graduated you said you were going to go to Inuniversim?”

Hunk starts up the stairs to the upper levels and sighs down at him. “Yeah, it wasn't really for me.” his demeanor changes, smile slipping for a second and Lance doesn't press.

“Well, at least I'm glad to see a friendly face!” Lance says and pauses on the steps. “anyways, I have to go, you know, down. I'll see you around!”

“Wait!” Hunk calls back, “Come see me during lunch! We can talk about those engine noises. I'm in the the main control room.”

Lance grins. “Got food too?”

Hunk pats his bag, “Not to brag but totally  bragging, I have the best lunch actually.”

Lance sees from the corner of his eye that Temo is waving at him from across the loading dock, and the give Hunk a thumbs up. “I'll be there then! See ya, Hunk!”

Hunk waves back and Lance scurries over to the descending ramp of the loading dock, where the family friend waits, hands on his hips, belt clasped tight over bulging stomach.

“Mornin’ Temo.” Lance greets and gives him a half hug.

Temo pats his arm and then eyes him critically. “That's… kinda tight,” he says.

Lance sputters. Is everyone going to mention how tight his jumpsuit is?

“Well you got it for me, so this is your fault.”

The man laughs. ‘You're a little thicker than I figured. Maybe it's better. We’ll see.”

Lance fiddles with the zipper at his chest. “We’ll see? That doesn't sound reassuring.” Temo claps him on the shoulder again. “It won't matter today. Come on. I'll show you where you're working.”

Temo leads him into the belly from the Colosseum main loading dock, a huge hanger that spans 400 lengths high and 200 wide, down to where the enormous room tapers off into a descending slope to the honeycomb caves underneath.

Temo keeps a brisk pace, maneuvering through the foot traffic with ease. Lance trip once or twice but otherwise keeps up.

He spots other tamers, guards, feeders pushing large bins of seed and food, and sponsors. The tunnel slope would feel almost claustrophobic with how many people are walking in and out if not for how wide the tunnel is, big enough to transport large EndAll beasts.

The crowd lessens as they go deeper in, the tunnel dispersing into many hallways and lifts and rooms.

Temo finally steps into a large stall room on the third floor down, syntac framed stalls for what Lance guesses is gineo horses.

He knows about them, from school and his father, giant six-legged beasts whose chest overshadow lance’s height, flickering silver mane, and sharp wicked teeth. Sharks of the desert they call them, but once tamed, even a 1st schooler can ride them.

Lance is ecstatic at the possibility of working with them, his dread suddenly dissipating like carbonated sugarwater, filled with his hope.

But the stalls are empty, and Temo picks up a wide mouth syntac shovel and hands it to Lance.

“Okay. You’ll be here until I can get some training under your belt.”

Lance doesn’t understand. “What… what do you mean here?”

Temo waves his keycard over an omnisensor on the last stall and something mechanical whirls.Then all ten stall doors slide open at once as if on a track. The bottom is covered in foul-smelling excrement, thick and brown on the syntac floors. It assults Lance's senses terribly.

Lance looks at the shovel in his hands and sputters. “You're kidding. This isn't- I thought I was taking my dad's job.”

Temo snorts. “Your dad has almost 30 years of taming. You have zero. Of course, you're not taking his place.”

Lance gapes at him and then looks at the stalls and the almost two fingerbreadths thick of excrement. “I am not scraping poop all day.”

Temo crosses his arm. “Hey, be grateful I got you this job, even if it is scraping shit, it's still better pay than half of what you could be getting. You might be stable, but your foreign. Remember you need Plata, Lance. I thought you would have grown up at little.”

Lance bites his lip, his fingers closing tighter over the shovel handle. Temo reaches into the belt around his waist and hands him thick worn gloves. “This will help with the blisters. And there is a washdown sink and showers next to the feed room.”

Lance nods. “Sure.”

Temo pulls the multi-tech hanging from an elastic on his belt, checking the time. “Well, get started. This section needs to be cleaned by eighth hour.”

“Sure,” Lance mutters again and Temo sighs before he leaves. 

Lance looks over the row of stalls he'll have to muck in 5 hours. He lets the shovel drop and rubs at his face. His nose is getting used to the smell already and Lance hates it. Poop scraper. Lucky him, this exactly what he dreamed of.

He pulls the gloves on, too bulky for his long slender hands, and he should feel grateful for at least something, but he can't with all the disappointment in his chest. It's dumb, he knows how foolish he's being. He's was so frightened at being injured and now he comes to find out that he won't be near the animals. Now his fear is gone, but the bitterness is on his tongue still, stronger than before. He traded a life of adventure for _this?_  

People walk by the end of the stall row and Lance ducks his head, his ear burning like the suns are full shine on him.

_Stop it_ he scolds, as he picks up the shovel. _Just do your job_. Work is work, and his family needs him. _Grow up, Lance_. He thinks, but the unhappiness stays.

Temo had left wide mouthed bins stacked by the first open stall, and an anti-grav harness to put them on. He can still feel shame turning his gut, but he heads over the end of the stalls, grabbing the bins. Of course, someone calls out to him.

“Hey, you're the new kid cleaning the stalls? Lorenzo’s kid?”

Lance bites his lip, breath shaky and face warm from embarrassment when he turns around to face the people.

It's a crowd of four, males donning red dusted uniforms and the smudges of black ash paint under their eyes tells Lance all he needs to know.

Hunters.

They are dirty, dirt streaked and look tired, and it seems to him that they have just returned from scouting.They look at him and Lance swears that if they make a comment about his jumper being skin tight he’s going to toss the first bin full of crap he collects down their sleek tactical jackets.

“Yeah, I am. Name’s Lance.”

One of the guys looks passed him to the rows of stalls and the shovel in his hand.

“Well, after you clean this shit up, stay away from the showers. We don't need you contaminating our water.”

It might not be a mean comment, might even be a genuine concern because water is very safeguarded on this dry hell of a planet but the way he says it reeks of disdain and superiority. Lance leans against his shovel and grins. 

A long time ago, when Lance was a tiny skinny little boy, his mother told him something her mother had told her. ‘ _Whatever you do_ ,’ she had said, rocking baby Teo in her arms and looking out to the sea,  ‘- _walk in confidence and pride, for no man can shame you like you shame yourself. Never be ashamed of yourself, Lance_.’

Lance was very good at pretending that he wasn't ever ashamed of himself.

“Oh. Don't worry!” he chirps, and the men frown. “but it's not like you use anyways. I mean I’m standing in a crap pile and I can still smell you.”

The man stiffens, the other men look shocked before their face fight against betraying smiles.

Lance cocks his hip, and the man takes a step forward. He really shouldn't mess with Hunters, they track down beasts and face them on their home territories. They're dangerous and violent and have nothing to lose, from the stories he's heard. But Lance can't feel himself regret it. If he doesn't stand up for himself here and now, he's going to begin a life of bowing. He will not. Confidence and pride.

The man looks his nose down at him, so close that the musty smell coming from him fills Lance's nose and he has to scrunch it up because it's overpowering. Did no one seriously tell this guy about how he smelled? It's almost sharp.

“I could break you in half and make you choke on shit. How would you like that?”

Lance huffs, moving the shovel forward a little. “I don't stand a chance against a big hulking guy like you and your bulky friends back there. Listen, I'm trying to help you out here. No hard feelings.”

The man reaches for his arm, but Lance is quicker, and he moves the shovel in front and blocks him with it. There is a crack of sound as the man's knuckles rap against the syntac and he curses loudly.

Lance knows he's in trouble.  There is four of them, and although he knows how to fight, he hasn't really had any practice since his older brother left. He holds the shovel between them ready to smack him away if he dares get too close.

The man is seething and ready to brawl, but another man reaches them and pushes the angry one away.

“Alright, that's enough.”

He's taller than the rest, a good three inches on Lance's lanky form, and the side of his head is buzzed. Tattooed into the cropped hairs is four thick parallel diagonal lines.

Lance's gaze flickers over them. He's taken down four EndAlls, it seems.  Impressive for how young he looks.

“Let's settle down. This is his first day. And it's Lorenzo’s kid. Relax, Lars.”

The man scans Lance and his gaze lingers almost darkly. Lance blushes, aware of his cursed outfit but brushes it away by leaning back on the shovel. “Okay. I'm sorry I called you out.” he says, but the man still looks entirely too mad.

“I'm Matthias.” The one with the tattoos says, then nods to the other men. “This is Lars. Back there is Nat and Henrik.”

Lance shrugs. “Okay. Nice meet you fellows.”

Matthias cocks a thin black eyebrow. “I thought you would be too young to be working here? Lorenzo mentioned you were in higher schooling still.”

Lance swallows hard, “I didn't know there was an age restriction in scooping crap.”

Matthias laughs, “You're a smartass, aren't you.”

Lance's shrugs again, “Maybe you bring the best out of me.”

“I see.” Then he smirks, his mouth twisting attractively.

There is still tension in the air but Lars turns away and he whispers to the two in the back and either Nat or Henrik laugh. “of course you stink,” one of them says. “We've been out on the plains for a couple of days. We all stink.”

He's wrong, this Matthias doesn't stink, he smells like compacted dirt and smoky ashy. It hovers closer when Matthias leans in, and Lance braces himself.

“Your dad told me that you could out shoot us. Is that true?”

Lance feels his mouth twitch. He resists it for a moment before he caves, pride blooming into a smile. “I mean. Probably. Yeah.”

Lars snorts like a gineo horse.

Matthias is watching his face, eyes drifting and Lance feels intimidated, but doesn't dare backup.

“Okay. How about a bet? You out-shoot us, and we'll come and help you muck the stalls one day.”

Nat or Henrik sputter but Lars grins wickedly. Lance looks at them before eyeing Matthias again. “and if I lose?”

Matthias' eyes flicker but Lars comes up again, “Then I get to throw you into that shit for that bratty mouth of yours.”

Lance wrinkles his nose. A bet… Hunters have impeccable aim, and experience and just all around better at this because they actually fight for a living. But.

He wiggles his fingers and then thrusts his hand out. “Mm. Okay. Make sure you have a change of clothes, though. Because I doubt you want to get poop stains on these things.”

Matthias cocks another eyebrow, and this time Lars laughs. “You a cocky little fucker, for saint's sake, shut up.”

Matthias takes his hand, gloved fingers sliding over gloved fingers. His grip is solid, and Lance squeezes back as a reflex. Matthias smiles at some private thought, then start moving back, letting go of his hand  “Okay. I'll see about setting up a time. I'll come around lunch.”

Lance shakes his head. “Made your reservation too late, bud. Already got a date.”

Matthias shrugs, but his eyes don't leave Lance's.

“I'll catch you sometime then, don't worry.” his words drawl, a Kindani accent that tells him he was probably born and raised here. “I hope our schedules meet up soon.”

With a last sweeping gaze, he turns toward the feed room, followed by his friends.

Lance, feeling oddly satisfied at the outcome, moves back to the stalls. He is a real good shot, ever since he was a boy. His uncle and great uncle would take him out on the swamps on Almeza and have him shoot waterlizards to eat. He used to hit every time.

Lance twirls his shovel and then heads into the stalls, careful not to get his boots dirty just yet. He rigs a bin to an anti-grav harness and then gets to work.

Lance doesn't lie to himself, it's unpleasant in every sense of the word, hard on the back and arms, and the smell covers him completely. There are several times in those three hours he feels like tossing the shovel and giving up, but he remembers Mateo, Lucia, his _father_ sick in bed, depending on his work to make ends meet and he grits his teeth.

He eventually starts singing, blaring out every ballad he knows to pass the time, and he doesn't particularly care when people give him odd looks as they pass by.

By the time the stalls are mucked, Temo comes down with soft pillowed clay for the bottom layer of the stalls and thankfully helps him throw it out.

“Not bad.” he tells him, leaning over a shovel and Lance feels like glowing. He's still a little bitter about the whole thing, or where he is now, but he did do a good job, and he'll take the praise.

“am I done here? Or-?”

Temo nods, “Take your meal break and then meet me ground level in 30. I'll be in the second entrance.”

Lance tugs off the gloves that, while they did help, made his hands pruny with how much he sweated. It reminds him of Almeza, how he would come home his hands and feet wrinkled with how long he stayed in the waters.

He hasn't  taken a _real_ bath since he _got_ to this planet.

He strips down to his shorts and his undershirt, opting to go barefoot instead of trying to clean Gineo feces from them, and Temo looks at him, frowning but only shakes his head instead of comment on it.

“Bring your tamer’s belt too” he instructs, and Lance pauses in shaking out his jumpsuit from leftover bits.

“What? Why? Am I…. Training?”

Temo scratches at his patchy beard, “Be a long time before you're training, Lance. You'll be working with some kip. Don't worry, it ain't gonna be dangerous.”

Lance bristles. “I'm not scared. I'll do whatever.”

Temo snorts. “Not scared? Well, when you see the EndAlls, you'll be singing a different tune.”

Lance slams his boot down along the edge of a filled bin, bits of trapped excrement falling from the grooves.

“Is there any right now? Like, any fights coming soon?”

Temo pulls at the multi-tech at his waist, scanning it as he answers.

“Got one in Dungeon five. But he don't have anyone to go at it with. And the govern’r is gonna have a riot on his hands if the Hunters don't bring back something good soon.”

Lance drops the semi-clean boots near the end of the stalls, laying his folded jumpsuit over them. “Can't they get a beast from Inuniversim or something?”

Temo shrugs, still focused on the device in his hands. “Politics. You find out soon enough how much bullshit goes on here. Just keep your head down and your nose out of business. Keep the governor happy and you'll be fine.”

“He comes around often? The governor?”

“More often than we'd like, but he pays the plata, so whatever the man wants, we ain't gonna object.”

Lance rubs at his wrinkled hands. “He owns the one in dungeon 5?”

Temo finally drops the multi-tech, and it swings and goes back to dangling at his belt. “No, Lord Ésteon own the bloodbreaker. And the governor hasn't found a beast to beat him yet. You saw that last Endall battle, right?”

Lance nods, “I saw bits of it. We snuck into Propio’s bar.”

Temo laughs, and Lance is relieved he's not going to scold him. He makes his way to the bins, capping them with the magnetic tops, sealing the smell, speaking as he does. “Well, the bloodbreaker destroyed the governor's last beast. He hasn't found one since then. He's going kinda mad for it too. Sending out Hunters off planet every couple of cycles. Ésteon is rolling in his own smugness over it.” Temo brings the bins together, chaining them up and then pushes them over to Lance.

“He keeps his tamer filthy rich too. Would love to be in his boots right now.”

Lance drops his gloves on his jumpsuit and skips over to help push the bins through the doors and up the hallway, back up to the loading floor.

Temo eyes him, “You really gonna walk around like that? And bootless?

Lance shrugs.

Temo sighs, and says nothing more.

“So.” Lance starts, maneuvering past people carefully. The last thing he wants is to drop crap all over the place. “How much does his tamer make?”

Temo slaps at his shoulder, his other hand firmly planted on bin still. “You still leagues from even attempting to even think about taming an EndAll. No use thinking about how much money they make either.”

“I'm just curious, Temo. Like…. A lot?”

Temo smiles wide. “Depends on your sponsor, but decent is about 20?”

Lance feels his heart leap. “20 percent of earnings!?”

Temo is still smiling, but this is sharper, more animalistic.  “and if you keep winning, it only grows. Rumor has it that Didier could buy an entire well to himself.”

Lance chokes, sucking in a breath. A _well_!? Enough plata to buy a town is insane. With that amount of money… he could get Apa his very own Pharma, a legitimate research Pharma. They could buy all the off planet luxuries they could ever want. Dresses for Lucia, a playsweep for Mateo. And… he could pay Teresa's galaxy sentence off. If he could make that much money, then everything would be fine.

Well, almost everything. He wonders suddenly if you could buy your way into the galactic navy.

“I can see you planning on spending all that money, but let me give you a wake-up call.” Temo interrupts his daydream cruelly. “Even your dad, with 30 years of taming and one of the best damn workers here, has never tamed an EndAll.”

Lance looks over to him, but he doesn't really feel deterred. If he could… somehow tame an EndAll than he could fix everything.

“Okay, so I'm just asking because I'm curious, but how could …. I, you know, even, like, get to tame an EndAll?”

“You can't.”

“Pretend! Just tell me! It’s not like I'm going to go running out to find one.”

Temo lifts an eyebrow at him, before relenting.

“Tamers these days think it's all about fancy techniques and science. But we know better. Your father gets it. I get it. What do you think the key is?” he stops in his steps to fully face him, not caring about the people trying to walk around them.

Lance frowns. “I'm supposed to know?”

“I'm sure your father told you. He was taught in the old ways too. Some parts of Almeza still work that way.

Lance wants to say that older isn't better, because he's seen some EndAll trainers, and they can't be over 30, but he won't, not with Temo looking so serious and grave.

What he father taught him? His dad used to take him out to the sugar planes of his home planet and coax out beautiful stalkbirds, with feathers as tall as Lance was at the time, shades of the most brilliant reds and purples and blues, with simple coos and clicks of the mouth. The ferocious territorial fowls would be as meek as chicks under his hands. Apa used to tell him that every beast has a level of sentience, of understanding. Of heart.

Lance mouths those last words, and Temo smiles. “Right. Find the beast heart. Do that, and an animal will do anything for you. Fight. Kill. Die for you.” he reaches out to Lance's hand, touching the center of his palm. “If your quintessence and they're quintessence match, you'll know.”

Lance frowns down at his hands. He didn't know Temo was such a religious man. “And that's it?”

Temo pulls away, resumes pushing the bins, and Lance follows. “No. But it's your best start. Now C'mon. We'll leave these in the incinerator and then you go eat."

Lance nods, stepping behind him quickly, the conversation coming to an odd abrupt end.

They finish together, and even when Temo chases him off to eat, Lance can't stop thinking about all the possibilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> World notes:  
> Sweep = slang for hovercraft  
> Syntac = synthetic tactical alloyed metals, used for instead of expensive and rare metals  
> B-mea = slang for Balmera Crystals, harvested energy and standard source for the galactic empire  
> Anti-grav = slang for anti-gravity, tech that allows for a slight negation of gravitational force  
> Plata = slang for money, in form of data transfers  
> Multi-tech = a small device that is used as a passport/wallet/ communication and citizens identification. Loaded with a screen and omnisensor. Digital army swiss knife tbh
> 
> If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!
> 
>  
> 
> Next update: (April 13th) :Red III: The Beast from the Mellark Desert.


	3. Red III: The Beast from the Mellark Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance meets a god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited. I really just had to post to get going again. Please read my notes at the end. Thank. Apologies on the Delay.

 

 

Hunk, true to his word, always has the best lunch laid out when he comes up to the control room.

It’s been a month since Lance has taken up the tamers job and he spends every noon meal with Hunk up in his office that overlooks the entirety of the Colosseum. Hunk, with his accelerated certificate in stagnant mechanics, is in charge of most of the gearing and engineering that goes on in the underbelly. Though he works under a surly bad mouthed Kindani, the engineering team knows that Hunk is the one that does all the work.

Lance admires how he can helm all the responsibilities so well and still always find the time to chat with Lance, and Lance is eternally grateful. Their friendship forms fast and solid within weeks.

 

Today, it’s only Hunk in the control room, his mechanic's suit grease-stained and loose from the heat, as he eats. He waves when Lance dwaddles in, hands deep into the pocket of his jumpsuit.

“You better not have any animals in your pockets. Again.”

Lance pouts, and pulls out a tiny furry ball that looks like nothing more than fluff. “Misa is attached to me! She’s harmless, Hunk.”

The fluff moves, unrolling and blinking tiny spots for eyes. Hunk doesn’t seemed charmed. “That’s what you said last time and then we spent an hour looking for an angry horned slither. And you know I hate snakes.”

“Yeah, that was a bad call. But Misa here won't bother no one at all. She’s a saint. A baby!” He goes to the concave window and lets the animal peek through. She seems unimpressed because she folds up again, halfway to sleep.

Hunk looks at the animal. “-from a new batch?”

Lance shakes his head, cooing when Misa flips over and spreads pale feathered wings snoring softly. “Misa was born the day before I got here.”

Soutets are bred for entertainment. Low on the sentient scale, hardy and small, they are pets to many children. Lance doubts they exist as actual living creatures anywhere in the galra reigned universe anymore though.

They have tiny thin bodies that are covered in down feathers and small little wings.

Lance has been helping with feeding and cleaning them in preparation for the SunStill festival coming in the coming quarter.

“I brought her so I could show her your awesome office.”

“Sure, it's awesome, if you like being literally in the sky.”

Lance turns from the window, surprised, “Aw man don't tell you're scared of being up here?”

Hunk shrugs and tosses him a sandwich and lance has to be quick to catch it, juggling the tiny sleeping animal on one hand and grabbing with the other  “Um, scared of falling to my death? Yes. Of course I'm afraid of that. But anyways. I heard a rumor today,” he begins mysteriously.”-that the hunters are finally gonna give it to you.”

Lance sits in one of the chairs by the digital screen, looking inquisitively at all the cool little symbols. It's Jargon, the technical language that Lance hasn't truly mastered despite all his classes and late nights. He always figured he would learn by doing when he got into a cockpit.

He can make out _fission accelerator_ and wonders why the hell that is needed in the Colosseum. He throws his feet up in the command desk as he unwraps a sandwich of melted mesien cheese, pumpsquash and cactus meat.

“I don’t like how that sounds.” he takes a bite of the sandwich, makes a long appreciative sound and then talks with his mouth full. “Matthias hasn’t mentioned it though. Imma see him after the dawn call.”

Hunk twirls in his engineering seat, grabbing a wicked looking instrument. “So you really are friends with them now? You hang out a lot it seems.”

Lance talks around his food, “Yup. Besties now.”

Hunk snorts and then pushes Lance's feet off the command screens, opening up a panel and flicking at metal fasteners. Lance compiles, boot settling on the syntac floor. “And the bet? Is that still gonna happen?”

Lance takes another bite. “Mmm. Yeah. Lars is gonna make sure. They think they shoot better than me.”

“Don't they?”

Lance shrugs, feeling honest with Hunk, “I guess we'll see.”

Hunk carefully digs into the his bag again. “That sounds super reassuring.”

Lance finishes the sandwich and twirls in the moving chair.

“Oh by the way, here’s the manual for the double propulsion engine mods. With this, you can cut down on the sound by rerouting the exhaust to a second port. Finished it last night” he tosses the book and Lance catches it deftly and starts to flick through it. “I'm surprised you're wearing clothes today too. Didn’t clean the stables?” Hunk asks, returning to his work.

Lance frowns at the Jargon in his hand, and shrugs, “Temo says he wants me to work with some tamer on the west wing. Don’t worry I'll be cleaning up crap tomorrow again incase you missed the smell. The joy.”

 

He swings his bag around and digs through it, bringing out a maize husk wrapped bundle. “Abue sends that to you,” Lance says as he slides it over the console. The digital pad beeps in protest and Hunk frowns before he takes it.  
“You have no respect for the machine,“ Hunk says with a fond sigh as he unwraps the leaves. “Smells great! Tell your grandma thanks for me.”  
Lance scoots closer, fixing Misa in the palm of his hand and then sets her down on the pad where she slumps there tiredly. Lance leans over the console, face pillowed on his bent arm. “It’s just a corn cake with sweet-syrup and cream to say thanks… I dunno, for being my friend and stuff I guess.”  
Hunk laughs. “I don’t need payment for being your friend Lance.”  
“I know that,” Lance counters. “But it’s cool… And I…  I don’t know. I thought I would hate it here. I mean, I still think I —” Lance pauses, suddenly embarrassed by his inability to keep everything that he keeps bottled up within him safe inside his head. He holds so much back at home that now it's becoming a tendency to spill the overflow around others.  
“— still think you belong in space?” Hunk knowingly finishes.  
Lance reaches over and pets Misa, who shivers under his touch. “It’s dumb but yeah... I can’t seem to let go of it.” He pauses for a minute and then sighs. “Anyways, thanks… You know, for everything.”  
“It sounds like you're breaking up with me, dude.”  
Lance chuckles, “I would never! You’re a real catch Hunk. In fact! Let’s get married right this moment. I think Temo has a Valento union certificate.”  
Hunk crosses his arms, his mouth dropping into a teasing pout. “At least get a bond ring.”  
Lance coos at Misa, who flaps her tiny little wings in the dust filled room. “Well, first paycheck goes to food. I’ll see if I can swing by the jewelry smith after.”  
Hunk sighs then and frowns, mirth fading from his eyes. He goes silent for a beat before saying, “Lance, you know just because you work here now doesn’t mean that you can’t join the GNF later. They aren’t really picky.”  
  
Lance observes Misa as she struggles to lift herself up a few inches before she flops back down in his hand. Guynus, the tamer in charge of the Soutets said that Misa’s body was to weak to fly and if she wasn’t able to by this time, chances were that she never would. Lance helps her up again, watches her as she spreads her small-spanned wings and shifts her fragile body. He wants to see her fly so bad… as much as he wants it for himself.  
“I want to fly, Hunk. I wanna see every star and planet out there. Joining the Kindani base force won’t help that. I had it all planned out. Graduate with top marks and get my uncle to recommend me to Alas. Frontier pilots earn so much plata but fighter pilots earn even more.”  
“You really wanna fight for the empire?” Hunk asks, his voice strained and thin. It makes Lance give pause and look away from Misa’s continuous flapping. Hunk’s lips are pressed tightly together, his features strained. The usual friendly exuberance doesn't shine bright in his eyes and Lance opens his mouth to say something — he doesn't know what  — but before he can put sound to words, Hunk’s hardened expressions flickers away in a flash.  
“W-what?” Lance finally manages with a swallow.  
Hunk looks away and when he turns back, his smile is . “It’s nothing... Anyways — Lance, if you really want to join, you could always work your way up. You would probably catch someone’s eye. It doesn't seem like you to give anything up.”  
Hunk's words barely register with Lance because he is too busy watching in awe as Misa works her way up in the air and floats just above Lance’s cupped palms. Beating soft wings, her body trembling and her movements unsteady but by all saint’s, Misa is flying.  
“Yeah,” Lance says with a proud grin as Misa collapses into his hands. He praises her with softly petting fingers. “I’m not the type to give up, eh.”  
He brings Misa to his chest, holds on to that little bit of hope and lets his heart guard them both.

The tamer that Temo introduces him too is a beautiful woman that has to be from somewhere inverse, Miserin he thinks, from the opaque blue of her eyes. Her skin is darker than his, gold dusted freckles on her bare shoulders. She looks alien and breathtaking enough that Lance has trouble saying more than two words in that first introduction.

But Lincinda immediately informs him of her distaste of him by having him carry three bags weighed full of grains up some helm cursed seeming dozen stories of stairs and Lance loses a bit of the  fervor in his sudden crush. The bags were very heavy after all

 

 

* * *

 

 

Lincinda Vaytoire is the tamer head over the Marvks,  large tusked and hard shelled creatures that seem to live forever and are ridden by those with enough guts to try. The creatures, lizard like when they pull back their hard plated scales, are tall enough to settle snugly under Lance’s chin, and virtually indestructible.

They are free roaming in one of the dungeons for the EndAlls because, as Lincinda warned, Marvks are just as dangerous when frightened or agitated.

There is about 15 in the 500 length area, some laying out in the synthetic sun, and others ram horning each other, but they all come to attention when Lincinda opens the frist door. Lance marvels at how their plating shifts around their heads, elliptical eyes blinking and tongues thick and black licking over lipless jaws.

“Everyone.” Lincinda calls to them as if addressing a crowd of people instead of animals, and then motions to Lance, “This is our new friend. He’s gonna make sure you’re all clean and fed everyday.”

Lance looks over to her, eyebrow raised, “Uh…” he starts and then feels 16 pairs of eyes on him, “I’m Lance. Please, do not eat me.”

Lincinda slides her multi-tech over a read pad and the short balcony that overlooks the dungeon rumbles to life, sliding down the wall to merge with the ground. Lance feels nerves pull tight in his stomach, but Lincinda seems steady and calm and he really doubts that she would let them take a chunk out of him. Without good reason, at least.

She opens the second guard door and the beasts lumber forward, wary of Lance but sniffing the air for the grains in the bags at Lance’s feet.

“Marvks are very high on the sentient scale,” she explains, “-so talk to them like they can understand you. Because they can.”

“I can... do that.” Lance replies as he frowns.

Lincinda bends over to pick up two of the grain bags easily and walks over to the large feeding trough. Lance frowns harder at that and follows her, miffed. Grumbling, “Why’d I have to carry them then?”

The animals gather around her and she cuts open the bags and proceeds to toss it on the large flat dish on the floor. The Marvks crowd, the hard bone plating around their head making a collar around their neck as their soft vulnerable heads are exposed in order to eat.  Lance creeps closer and they blatantly ignore him.

Lincinda watches him with her hand on her hip, and then motions for the bag in Lance’s hand.

“Pour that one out too.” She commands and tosses him the knife. He did as she did, cutting the thick plastic bag and pouring it over the flat bin. The creatures butt against his back and their breaths huff over the back of his head but don’t do much else. When he steps back, empty bag in hand, one of them digs a tail into his stomach, not hard or warning, just… odd.

“Temo was right, I guess.” Lincinda says, walking around the feeding animals to where Lance stands with the bag and knife in hand. “I suppose you aren’t dangerous in the least.”  She takes the knife from his hand and then tosses the bag with the other pile of them. “Even with the knife, they didn’t blink an eye.”

Lance frowns, skin prickling “What do you mean! What if they did?! Would they have bitten me or something?”

Lincinda shrugs, “Well they didn’t. Listen, we haven't had anyone else in the last several months help me with the Marvks. SInce they are so high on sentience and not dangerous most of the time i’m pretty low priority for help. Tamers are all trying to get in good with the the governor or getting their own sets ready for SunStill. Temo said that you might like this better than cleaning shit. And he thought you would fit in well.”

Lance looks around to the animals, some done eating and going back to sunbathing. “Really? Why do they like me?”

She shrugs, “You have kindness in you. The Marvks can sense it.”

“well, I am astonishingly good looking.” He grins at her, winking. She, unfortunately,  ruffles his hair, “Sure you are, kid.”

One of the Marvks has pulled from the group and is headbutting Lance, black tongue heavy and wet on his collar.

Lance feels nerves pickle, with teeth the size of baby fists that close to his head, but the Marvk has it’s plating back and from his brief classes in the animal sciences, that only means good things.

“S’gul likes you.” Lincinda says, smiling for the first time. Her gums are dark, with a hint of gold. She's beautiful. Lance feels slightly awed and smiles back before he registers the name.

“S’gul? Like the system’s idol? Are you serious?”

“Believe me, you'll see it in a few days. They are the same. This S’gul can't sing but she'll beat that holo in dancing anyday.”

Lance turns to look at the animal, eyes a strange mix of reds and violets. The creature stares back, before blinking quickly, as if _winking._

Lance gasps, and gaping at Lincinda, who laughs loud and unabashed.

“C’mon. We have to oil down their scales.”

Lance follows, but not before patting the ani- _S’gul,_ on her soft smooth head.

Lance is feeling good about it all. Lincinda is gorgeous and nice, and the Marvks like him. He might like it here after all.

When Lincinda returns with a bin of black thick oily sludge though, and then passes him a plastic overcoat, Lance determines that this place is definitely not for him.

 

* * *

 

He meets Matthias at the sunset call, smelling of oil that he had to smear over Marvks shells. It leaves a thin shiny residue that annoys him, but he can’t waste the water to take it off fully. Matthias just smiles at his pout and pulls out a tube of thick paste.

“Here. It’s what we use out in the desert. It takes almost everything off.”

The cream feels slimy, but cool, and Lance rubs into his skin like the daily aloe he does. “Thanks.” he says, grinning and methodically shifting his fingers over the skin of his hands. “I don’t even know what this oil stuff is, but I guess anything is better than smelling like gineo crap, right.” He chuckles and then glances up to look at Matthias.

He’s watching him intensely, the amber of his eyes shadowed by the weight of his eyelashes. Lance pauses, frowning at the gaze. “What.”

Matthias blinks and then looks away, his mouth quirking. “Nothin’. You know, you never smell bad. Ever, actually. How do you do that?”

Lance beams, proud at how much care he takes to be presentable even while in the muck of things. “I make my own scents! My mom was learning how when were on Almeza, but she doesn’t have time to do it now. But I liked it, so I still do it when I can.”

Matthias nods, his smile growing wider, “So what scent do you have now?”

Lance straightens, smiling just as wide, “Its rose! We have these roses from Almeza that my mom brought when we moved. But they’re dying now. Its sad, we can't spare the water and fertilizer.”

Matthias leans in, closer than he ever has been, and Lance feels how hot the other man is, warm like rocks sitting out in the sun. Lance finds himself blushing.

“It’s nice. You should share. I'm sure Lars could use it.”

Lance shakes the tingle of nerves buzzing in his stomach and laughs, “Oh saints, not even a whole bottle could do that guy any good. Are you sure he doesn’t keep a dead animal in his fatigues or somethin’”

Matthias laughs loud, a bark almost and Lance loves it. He loves making people laugh.

“C’mon.” He says, setting a hand on Lance’s shoulder and handing him a square of fabric from his pocket, “You gonna eat before you take off?”

Lance takes the cloth, and wipes the cream, his hand soft and clean now, but a little raw. He wonders what is in the cream. “No! It’s okay. I should head back early tonight. My um… family needs me. Stuff happening.”

Matthias pats him and nods, “Sure. We’ll miss you.”

Lance ducks his head, his cheeks hot. Then he remembers Hunk, and what he said. “Oh hey, Ias! Did you like set up the date for our bet? Hunk told me that he heard rumors or something about it.”

Matthias snorts. “Probably Lars. He really wants to rub it in your face. But yeah, We’re taking off to the East End in a couple of days. I’m thinking when we get back from that.” He reaches out and taps Lance’s nose, who wrinkles it in protest. “So get ready for us. Lars really is going to throw you in the shit. He’s not kidding.”

Lance, arms crossed and rolling his eyes, “I always thought Lars didn’t have a brain and him thinking he can beat me makes me think I’m right about that.”

Matthias laughs again, and then they make it to the garage where Blue sits tucked and safe in the corner. “But- The East End? That’s really far, isn’t it.”

Matthias shrugs. “There ain’t any EndAlls this far from the Safeline. The Governor is really pushing for something to challenge Deider. Everyone is tired of see his smug ass face around.”

The East End is the farthest point that Kindanis can inhabit. Passed it is nothing but cracked parched earth that goes on for miles. Sometimes people feel curious and travel farther than they are supposed too, but they never come back. The earth out there opens up and swallows any bit of water it can, even if it’s red and still inside a person.

Lance frowns. The East End sounds a little frightening. Matthias doesn’t look concerned though. He looks indifferent in fact, watching quietly as Lance checks Blue and then speaks up before Lance can flick the motor on.

“Hey,” his voice a just bit quick, his accent sharper suddenly. “ -Eat with me on the skytouchers seats before I leave. For good luck.”

Lance, already flickering on the anti-grav pads, replies distracted “For good luck?”

Matthias’ mouth is a thin soft line, his dark eyes looking over Lance, “Yeah. I could use it.”

Lance grins back, “Sure! Oh, I’ll invite Hunk too. Although, he probably won’t come. He doesn’t like the skytouchers seats. In all honesty, he doesn’t like anything higher then he is. Can you believe that?”

Matthias smiles soft. “Sure.” There is something tight in his gaze but it fades like water seeping into dry ground before Lance can think on what it is. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Lance.” He steps back and Lance swings his leg over Blue and his engine roars to life, “Yeah! See you there!”

* * *

  


The trip back to Hacienda Entales always seems shorter in comparison to the trip there.

 

Mateo is waiting at the front gate for him, Santa trying to dig into the hard packed earth beside him. He smiles wide, but Lance notices that he glances over him, possibly looking for injuries. Lance wonders sometimes who really is the older brother here.

He didn't know what to say about it at first, the fact that he was delegated to poop cleaner and now working with animals that regard him as a soft plaything. His anxiety is gone mostly, but replacing it is a bitterness at his situation. Three months from now would be the ending of his higher schooling if he were still going. He would have graduated with top marks, and bearing _Stability_ , he is sure he would have made it into the galactic empire’s naval flight academy.

But it seemed all his hard work had been a waste.

Mateo trots up to him, eyes relieved and Lance smiles at him.

“Teo, is there food? I’m hungry!”

Mateo nods, but he hesitates in taking his hand. Lance fixes the problem easily, ruffling his hair and grabbing his thin little wrist. He looks skinnier without his schooling uniform on, thin like a chacho, the little winged insects they eat pan fried as snacks, and Lance wonders why.

“Is Tessa and Lulu back?”

Mateo shakes his head, “I think they're still at the grade station. Mami said they still hadn’t seen the officer when she brought them lunch.” He pauses, frowning and looking at the stones they are stepping over. “Why did Lulu have to go back?”

Lance shifts his bag over his shoulder “Sometimes the first test isn’t right, so people get re-evaluated.”

“I wasn’t.” Mateo says, concerned.

“Well, you passed the first time. Why would you go again?”

Mateo kicks up some dirt with his sandal, little red dust clouds at his feet. “So Lulu isn’t stable? Like me and you?”

Lance ruffles his hair again and crouches down, “Listen, whatever the empire says doesn’t mean anyone is better than anyone. Stable or unstable doesn’t matter, we are all… like people.”

Mateo nods but then his eyes slide away “My class doesn’t have anyone unstable.” He whispers, a confession. “But there are… um some of my friends who don’t like them. The call them failures.”

Lance blinks, teeth catching at his lip, “Well, you aren’t mean like your friends, are you? You don't think that, right?”

Mateo crosses his arms, “No.” then, with a pout, “You sound like Mami.”

Lance snorts and stands up, stretching from the long trip home, “That’s because Mami is always right.  Anyways c’mon let's get inside, I'm starving.” They pass through the courtyard and into the outdoor kitchen with ease, where his mom is cleaning corn.

Mateo slinks away, knowing that if he stays in the kitchen for too long with nothing to do, Ama will give him something to do.

“Hungry?” His mother calls out without looking up, “It’ll be a little bit before we eat.”

Lance walks over the few steps and kisses her on the check, “Mmmm. It’s fine. I can wait. Gotta wash anyways.” Lance pauses and then bites at his lip before he asks, “And Apa? How’s he?”

She doesn’t miss a beat, “Fine.” and Lance can tell it wasn't a good day. “Sleeping. Don't bother him.” Her tone and the abrupt end tells him all he needs to know about that. He sees the ragged look on her face, feeling terribly helpless.

“Okay. I’ll help you then.”

Ama shakes her head, and then glances around. “Look out for your grandmother.” she says in Galani, and Lance flinches because grandma doesn’t understand Galani. “She was concerned about Tessa and Lucia.” The underlying problem is clear. Concerned grandmother is code for grandma not doing well, grandma forgetful and maybe angry and demanding. Its code for, _‘don’t let anything she says bother you right now, she’s not herself’_

Lance takes the corn from her hand and peels away the thick purple papery husks, and she relents with a huff. “How were they?” Lance asks, focusing back on Teresa and Lucia and the Evaluation.

“Nervous.” His mother says, “I tried to tell her to wait for the results but she is sure Lucia didn’t pass the first time.”

Lance sighs, “She thinks because of her grade that Lucia isn’t going to make Stability. She bought into that whole stupid inherited grades neoshit. It's probably because of working at that Galra house.” the curse passes to easily and its testament to how worried his mother is because she lets it pass, and instead is quiet a bit too long after his comment. Lance blanches, “Wait. You don't think that too, do you?”

Ama pauses in her work, putting the half peeled husk of corn on the stone counter, “No. I don't believe everything of what they say, but we don’t know if Eulalio was Stable or not. I can’t help but think that maybe Lucia didn’t have a chance to begin with.  And Saints know that with everything going on, we haven’t had the time for her, with her studies or personality.”

Lance takes the corn from her hands again, pulling away leaves slowly. He wants to say that he has. He has thought of Lucia, paid attention to her. “Lulu will be fine.” he says slowly. He really believes it. Stable or not, Lucia was as sharp as she was kind.

His mother turns to face him, her face hard for a moment before she turns away and digs into the corn again. “Of course.” she says and Lance can tell that he hasn't eased her worries at all. He doesn’t know what to say or do, so he just imitates her, grabbing another corn.

 

They are still in the kitchen when Teresa and Lucia come back to the house, looking entirely too drained.

No one asks but Teresa's face is tight, and all she says is, “We’ll see in a couple of weeks.”

Lucia hugs Lance around the middle, and he gathers her up, leaving the kitchen with her in his arms, the tension between his mom and his sister to heavy to bear, like poised monsoon storms back on Almeza. He doesn’t want to be there for the eventually crack of lightning and pouring downfall.

The courtyard is dark when Lance passes it, the only light coming from Mateo and Lucia’s room, illuminating like a moon the dusty red tiles. There is no moon on Kinedar, only stars that seem to close, like twinkling eyes of animals. Beautiful and frightening. Mateo is biting his lip over his school work on the only desk in the house. The hololights are dim as he works out a with an odd projected three dimensional shape with his hands.

“Hey.” he greets and then looks at Lucia, brown eyes wide and curious. “Lulu?”

Lucia clings tighter when Lance tries to put her down, all bones and trembles.

Mateo watches them for a second, before he tells Lance that he’s going to take Santa for a walk. Mateo sometimes is too mature for eight, Lance thinks often.

Lucia snuffles into his clothes for several minutes, and Lance is debating if whether or not to try and do something to pull her out of her shell, but she beats him to it.

“Tio.”  She starts out small. “I really really want to be stable like you and Teo.”

Lance lets out a gasping sigh and then nudges her face to look her in the eye.

 

Stability.

 

The Galactic Empire, headed by the Emperor and the Galra Council, makes their ruling easier by grading all empire citizens. They test a being’s mettle by their usefulness to the empire, with a test before the age of 10. Stability means desirable, means the ability to get into the better schools, means better housing and more jobs. Instability weighs heavy when given, means people expect you to fail and don’t want to be anywhere near you when you do. Lance has been told over and over again, that soon, undesirable traits will be flushed out of the population. That is the Galra’s intention. Only the strong, healthy and smart will continue on.

When Lance was graded stable, he was in the happiest time in his life as he went through Evaluation. On Almeza, his entire family prospering, his brother still around, every weekend a trip to the everglades to hunt, or hunkered down in his cousin’s bar to listen the galactic pilots talk of “others” or aliens.  He had passed with flying colors.

He thinks that right now at this moment, he probably wouldn’t pass through. He’s never been more miserable. His sister is unstable, and his mother never took the Eval, and to this day he didn’t know the result of his older brother. His father was the only one that passed when he was a child. When Lance got back the certification, he hadn’t thought much of it, but the pride and hope in his family's face, that had felt good, had made him think that he was meant to be more like Lorenzo would always say.

Saelu-Prima is filled with the unstable, working the low end hard job, making less and paying more. For many of them, they are stuck in the cycle of it, unstable parents that can’t afford things which leads to children that can’t focus on studywork and aren’t as healthy, not as strong in the way the Galra want them to be.

His family is fortunate, the inherited estate and the credentials and experience his father has earned in years of beast taming on Almeza has made their life easy compared, but now that things are starting to crumble and Lance, stable or not, can’t hold it all together.

Lucia is watching his face, and Lance forces a grin, “Lulu, what do I always, always tell you.”

She glances down at his teeth, her mouth a soft sad pout and tear tracks on cheek dark cheeks. “That I am the best me ever in the universe.”

Lance kisses her forehead, “That’s right! If we looked everywhere in the universe, we would never ever find a better or prettier Lucia de Aletonia Almeza.”

She’s still pouting, eyes still watery so Lance quickly decides that they need a distraction. Both of them.

“Well, if you don’t believe me, let’s go looking!” He declares and shifts her onto his hip before striding out the door and back into the courtyard. They are out of the gate next and Mateo is climbing up the hill to the Hacienda as they start to descend down.

“Where are you guys going?” he asks, Santa climbing up his pant leg and clinging to his thin shirt.

Lucia still is quiet so Lance exclaims as loudly as he can, excited and smiling, “We’re going to look for another Lulu! Wanna join, Teo?”

Mateo looks slightly exasperated but he frowns at Lucia who is still stubbornly hiding her face.

“There is no way there is anyone as annoying as Lulu. No way.”

It’s a mean comment, maybe, but it does exactly as it intended. Lucia whips around to glare at him. “You’re way more annoying, Teo!”

Mateo sticks out his tongue and Lance laughs, before reaching out his hand to his brother. “C’mon then.”

They head into the town, the purple sky now giving way to the dark, the universe rivers lighting up the sky.

There is dancing in the town square, familiar faces waving at them. At some point, Lucia demands to be put down, and her face is finally starting to looking like it should. Like a child’s.

They join in the dancing for a while, showing off their quick feet and shifting hips. He dances with Lucia, and then with Mateo. Their laughter rings high into the quickly cooling air.

After a while they head to the bar downtown, watching the only universal access screen in the general vicinity. They watch with rapture, looking at the alien life on the screen until Cobinas shoo them off.

In the end, Lucia is leading the way back home, followed quickly by Mateo who insists that Lucia is cheating because she hardly even walked. Lance follows behind, smiling at their arguing.

 

His chest is warm, but as he gets closer, the warmth turns to claws, gripping at his heart and tensing his shoulders. It’s a monster, all horns and spikes that grows in his stomach, reaching out to his heart and his eyes.

He suddenly wants to run.

He blinks at the thought, digs his nails into the meat of his palm as his fist curl. And his step stumble. He feels impact of the feeling settle heavy in his joints, his jaw trembling. He wants to run. _He wants to run._

He feels disgusting, feels weak and fake. Lucia calls to him from where she's passes the gate.

Lance makes it up the steps, the gate dead cold in the night, the light from the universe river and the thousand of endless twinkling eyes of the skies in the space above shine the rusted red metal gate.

It mocks him, looking regal and proud and _loyal_. He is none of those things. He doesn’t think he was ever any of those things.

 

That night as he tucks Lucia into bed, she clings to his hand and tells him quietly, _I love you, Tio_.

And Lance kisses her soft and swallows hard.

* * *

  


In the last few weeks, Lance has eased into a rhythm, a comforting pattern to his days that makes the once dreaded Colosseum into a sort of second home, sometimes a relief, and he doesn’t like how that feels at all.

He helps Hunk when he has time off, eats lunch with him and learns what he can about advanced stagnant mechanisms and how they run. He improves his Jargon through boredom and builds his bike better with leftover scraps they save.

He sometimes hangs with other tamers, but he mostly, as he would be, is drawn to the Hunters.

Matthias’ pack is an easy fit. He sits among them during second meal if he can, when Hunk is busy, and listens to stories about beasts being submitted in the desert. Lars is an asshole, but he the one that laughs hardest when Lance cracks a joke, his blonde hair always a mess against his reddish skin. Henrik, dark skin and curled camel hair from Jinbuar,  a planet in a system in another quadrant, always asks after his family and teases about Lance's single older sister. Nat, from Tunduv, a blistering cold moon of a gas giant inverse, has red hair, and bright shocking eyes, his skin leathery because he never wears protection.

And Matthias. Matthias always smiles wide when Lance plops down with them, his Kindani roots showing with his dark eyes and smooth red clay skin, dark hair shaved on the sides and tied back at the base of his neck. Lance considers him a friend now.

Today, they are sitting over the highest edge seat of the Colosseum, the skytoucher seats, and Nat, Lars and Henrick have left, leaving Lance and Matthias to stare down at the Colosseum floor.

From here, the Gineo horses look small, and gentle. The air isn’t as hot, and since he worked with Lincinda again this morning, he still suited up in his jumpsuit. He’ll head down after and clean the stables, much to his disappointment.

Matthias is sharpening a thin blade so he can cut into a hard husked diablo fruit, solid unbreakable on the outside, but sweet and soft on the inside. Lance watches him crack the shell and then press edge of his knife into the notch, forcing the husk to break. It makes a hiss as air compresses, a sign of a ripe fruit and then the shell lays in two. Matthias hands him one side.

Lance takes it gingerly. These are expensive. He’s only had a couple at some child welcomings. They mean new life, mean hard work will pay off with sweetness in the end. Lance feels like he doesn’t really deserve it, but one quirk of Matthias’ eyebrow and he relents.

The fruit is sweet, catching on his tongue and swirling out, spidery webs of silk flesh that melt when it lands on his tongue.

 

“Didn’t want to share with the guys.” Matthias explains, his knife cutting into the yellowy silkspun flesh, “I only had one and they eat like gineoes”

Lance, licking his finger of the sugary leftovers looks away and down at the floor hundreds of lengths down. He feels sheepish and spoiled. “You’re really nice to me. “ Lance says, feels heat blossom over his cheeks, “Thanks for that.”

“You're easy to be nice to.” Matthias replies easily, “Lance, you're-” he stops and then leans back into the stone cropping, his lips curling. “I was all alone here when I was your age. My mom kinda kicked me out. She had too many kids to care for so it was fine. I didn't mind. I send them money but it's not like I want to go back there. My family is here now.” He turns to look at Lance, who is gripping the emptying husk in his hand and biting his lip. He doesn’t know how to feel about Matthias telling him all this, but feels abruptly sad about the whole thing. He never would've thought that Matthias, who always seemed to be at peace and put together was not just abandoned but actually pushed out of his own home. He continues on, his smile still soft. “I just don’t want you to hate this place. I had a feeling you would. It's not all that bad after awhile.”

“I _don't_ hate it here!” Lance says; quickly and loud, but feels like it’s a half truth. “I mean-”

Matthias laughs, “I know a man dreaming of being somewhere else when I see it. I see that in you, Lance.”

Lance blinks and then looks at him, feeling guilty. Was it the same thing that he used to see in Lorenzo? Lance remembers how Lorenzo used to look at the skies, how he would tell Lance that people were doing something in the universe while he was here wasting away. Lance knows how he felt now, the stirring in his soul, knowing that time passes, but he hasn't moved anywhere near to what he wants.

His eyes fill with tears, and he looks away but Matthias makes a noise, sounds like sympathy catching at the back of his throat, “Lance? I- did I say something wrong?”

Lance laughs, forcing the sound passed the knot of memories that have formed. “ No! You're fine.  I just… maybe you're right. I… I have always wanted to be a frontline pilot. Exploring new worlds and seeing the universe. On Almeza, I lived on Coralis, where the Alas base is. I used hang out with the pilots and I thought… I don’t know, for some reason I thought that I would be something more than just me. I thought I could fly one day.”

Matthias blinks at him before he turns away. “Who says you can’t. Aren’t you barely seventeen. And Stable. Being here isn’t the end of the universe...”

There is an edge to his voice, and Lance feel guilty. “Yeah, I know. Kinda but…. I think it’s starting to hit me how dumb that idea was. Maybe my whole life was leading to being here anyways. Maybe this is what I'm meant for.”

Matthias reaches out and pats his leg, “I dont think life is like that. We control who we are, not some stupid definition of fate. Lance, if you want to be a frontline pilot, then you should do it. Leave the Colosseum, and go.”

“I can’t- my family will… they need me. My dad, he got….” Its ugly to think about, uglier to talk about. No one but the governor’s officials and Temo know the truth. Telling Matthias would mean that it's real. He hesitates, but the other man is looking at him, eyes intense like summer heat. Lance wants to tell someone. He had wanted to tell Hunk, but never wanted to imagine Hunk rejecting him. He wouldn’t but… but Matthias is here, and waiting and they are so above the dry cracked ground, the melting sweet fruit in his hands, Lance crumbles. “He has…. _Talin_.” Lance whispers, and then quickly explains, “Remember that purge like a couple of months ago?”

Lance notes that Matthias hand stays on Lance’s leg even though Lance told him what his father has. Talin, the _defiler_. He feels relief shudder down his back.

“I remember. Lorenzo got it?”

Lance nods, shifting his gaze to Gineos again. They look free and beautiful “He’s always careful but there was a Yandwing that was brought from off planet. It had already infected other people but the stupid owner wanted my dad to cleanse him. Some lord from inverse. But my dad got it and no one cared. I mean no one but Temo. He-”

Lance doesn’t want to think about, he won’t think about how his father is actively slowly dying.

“I have to be here and- _saints_ \- this is so stupid. I shouldn’t complain, should I? You must think is so fucking whiny and dumb and-”

There is pressure on his knee and Lance looks up. Matthias is pressing closer, his hand grounding him. “Lance, You aren’t wrong for dreaming. Don’t feel guilty for wanting more than the life you have. You a better person than I could ever be. You love your family. You aren’t a bad person.”

“But-” Lance is desperate for an accusation, desperate for someone to tell him what he’s doing wrong, why he is so sad when he is the most fortunate of their family. He wants the guilt to hurt, to stab and wound and then maybe he might wake up from his self-pity. He wants someone to shake him and tell him to stop thinking of himself for once.

But Matthias doesn’t, he only takes Lance’s hand and squeezes. His hands are rough, like the husk of the diablo fruit and it breaks him for some reason. He’s the one that touches in his family, but ever since _Talin_ came to set up residence in their home, no one but Mateo and Lucia touch him.

Lance shudders, and he holds back his tears.

He doesn’t cry. It’s a waste of water.

They stay there, hands clasped until the guineos disappear from the Colosseum, until the Brillo goes purple, chased by his sister to the be swallowed by the horizon.

And even when Matthias does leave, looking lost and sad, Lance stays there.

He looks at the sky, and for the first time, hates it with everything in him. He wishes he never dreamed at all.

...

He can’t thank Matthias for his patience, for his kindness because they take off that night instead of early morning like they had planned.

They are only gone for two days,and Lance isn’t there when they return. Hunk calls him on his multi-tech and tells him that the hunters came back, and that he managed to find that cooling core jacket for Blue. Lance, feeling embarrassed, doesn’t see them for several days, their failure to find anything again getting them a fierce reprimand. A lot of Hunters are dismissed and some leave to Inverse. When Lance does see Mattathias again, he seems grim, but he only tells him that they finally should have that shooting competition. They all need something fun to do. Lance is more than willing to help.

 

The day of, he takes his grandfather's old projectile rifle, real metal, and polished wood. It isn’t worth much except to gun hobbyists, and this gun isn’t particularly rare. The mattel might be stolen to be melted though so he seals it up and keeps it close.

It was the gun he learned to shoot on, and though when his grandfather passed and it was given to his older brother, Lorenzo had left it behind.

Lance thought no one would mind if he took it for the day.

Lance swings a borrowed tranq gun over his hand with a flourish, bored as he waits for Matthias and friends. He waves to Lincinda, who waves back from the crowd not too far away. He's preening with all the attention, giddy with all the eyes on him. Matthias didn't really tell him what they were shooting or how but not knowing doesn't really bother him. He doesn't usually miss. Only if he's really distracted.

Matthias walks into the arena wearing dust fatigues, Lars and Henrik flanking him.

“Lance, I hope you're ready to get your ass handed to you.”

“As if you have an ass to hand to anyone.” Lance replies cocky as can be, and Lars grunts.

“I'm still going to throw you in the shit pile when you lose.”

“I thought we were friends, Lars!”

Matthias laughs and puts down the thin travel case he's carrying. “Stop flirting. I'm going go to get jealous.”

Lance pokes Lars in the stomach, and the man slaps at his back, then he looks over his attire. “You might distract Matthias with that but it certainly won't work on me.”

Lance frowns, confused for a second as he looks down at himself. He unzipped the jumpsuit to his waistline, and then tied the arms around his hips. He's wearing his white undershirt though, and it's a little dirty from helping Hunk out in a gearing room down in the belly of the Colosseum. What would be distracting?

Matthias clears his throat, and gives Lars a pointed look. “This is gonna be a clean duel, Lincinda got us a Mavk tanker and we've already rigged a pressure pad to it. Whoever can hit closest to it from a 100 lengths is the proper marksman. Easy instructions for Lars.”

Lars sputters and gives him a nasty sign with his hand. Matthias laughs.

Lance drops the borrowed tranq gun and heads over to his slip pack, where his gun still lays unassembled. He kneels down to it, unzipping the teeth to get ready. He hears Matthias’ footsteps, the crunch of dirt underfoot.

“Not gonna use a tranq gun?”

He hears him says, and then he whistles in appreciation when Lance flips open the pack.

“I'm into the classics.” Lance grins up at him and Matthias ruffles his hair.  “This my grandpa's. He taught me to shoot on it.”

“I’ve always wanted to visit Almaza.” Matthias begins conventionally, “ It has the most beautiful people in the Trinidad system I heard.”

Lance blushes hard, feel a fluttering up in his stomach. That almost sounded flirtatious, checks the gun, loads 12 soft alloy balls, fingers fumbling. “Um. Well, Maybe. My sister and mom are really pretty.”

“I feel like its true. All that water and trees. It’s bound to make people gorgeous.”

There is clay dust on Lance’s tongue, his face hot from the inside out. He can feel his ears flaring. “I’ll show some of my cousins, I guess, for you to determine that.”

“I don’t really need proof, Lance.” Matthias laughs, “I believe it.I mean, you-”

Lars saves him by yelling loudly from where the rest of them are lining up to shoot. Lance trips, gun swaying at the sound of his voice. “Uh! Yeah! Coming.” He ignores Lars’ smirk and saddles up the to the fence.

The distraction of Matthias’ words fades quickly when he spots the Marvks, Tetra, one of the Mavrks he knows is stubborn and much too smart to believe. Lance grins over to them. Matthias looks concerned. “Won’t it hurt the animal? I mean shooting them.”

Lincinda, from across the corral, laughs. It’s amazing how much she can hear. “You could shoot a HardLight cannon at a Marvk and she would still grind you under her feet. Don’t worry, Shoot all you want. Doubt you touch her anyway.”

Lars cusses back, and Lucinda neatly flicks her thumb at him. A clear and elegant ‘ _fuck you_ ’.

Matthias raises his beautiful tranq gun, Old Kindani scratched into the surface of the red lit gun. Lance would be intimidated if he didn’t know how off center those guns can be.

“Ready!” Lincinda shouts, and Tetra understands enough to start plowing at the ground. No doubt Lincinda told her clearly to be a neoshit about this competition and make it as hard as possible. The Marvk’s hard scales will prevent her from feeling anything short of a plasma hit from an airship, and the pressure pad on her side will swing with her movements. Marvks are lazy, but almost too fast when they want to. Lincinda may have been right when she said they might not even hit the beast.

“Steady Yourselves!”

Lance raises his gun, a buzz coming from the tips of his toes to the crown of his head. Adrenaline. It’s been so long.  

“Fire!”

Lance steadies his breath, feels all his focus pinpoint like the tip of a needle on how his hands hold the gun and his ears muddle sound. His eyes are unwavering. The gun is old, but solid, and Lance almost feels like it has a pulse, the fused metal and wood breathing with him.

Traq guns are going off beside him, missing Tetra by miles. If Lance could focus on anything but the swirling dust behind the stampeding Marvk, he would laugh at how wide their range is.

Tetra turns wide, rolls over avoiding the darts. After her second turns, she shift her pattern.

Lars curses as he reloads a second time, and Henrik and Matthias isn’t faring any better.

Lance finally settles in on how the animal moves, how she turns her ankle when she going to make a sharp turn, and that when he fires. The first one misses, but Tetra tenses as the soft ball hits the ridge of her back. Lance refocuses, and watches her ankles. This time, he aims at where she’ll attempt to duck and turn.

This time, when he pulls the trigger, there is a sound of a beep, and Lincinda yelps. “Saint’s blood!” she curses, and then waves the multi-tech in her hand from across the corral. “Lance got it!”

Matthias pulls his gun from his shoulder, grinning wider than ever, and Lars leans against the syntac fencing, crossing his arms but his face is beaming as well. “Neoshit! I thought you were lying when you said you could shoot.”

Lance starts to smile, swinging the gun over his shoulder, 10 soft balls still inside. He’s about to rock on his heels and brag with great humility when several muti-techs ring.

The hunters look down at their devices, reading silently, as Lincinda come up. “Lance hit a 8. Not bad but not a 10.”

The hunters look at each other, and the moment is tense. “We have to go.”

Lincinda cocks an eyebrow and then looks at Lance. Henrik clicks the safety on his gun. “We got a call. We have to check in.”

It’s odd how Lars’ smile has disappeared, doesn't say something snarky about his win, instead hardens like petrified plants after a salt storm. Lance swallows and follows them to the Honeycomb. “You guys just got back though.”

“Meet me in the stables in 15, okay? Matthias tells him as he, Lars and Henrik step onto a trolley leading to the upper meeting rooms.

Lance nods absently, feeling lost.

His multi-tech beeps, and he checks it, walking around people in the hallways of the Honeycomb.

It’s Lincinda, send him a holocopy of the footage she took of him shooting tetra. He wants to feel proud, but there is a weird pit in his stomach. He buries the device in his jumpsuit pocket and hurries to the stable.

 

Matthias is already in the stables, probably took the platforms down, and he’s shifting from one foot to the other when Lance jogs over to him.

“Wanted to say bye.” he says, his smile small.

“You leaving now?”

“A beast was spotted but Miaria Oasis. If it's drinking the bitter water than we have a good chance of taking it down and bringing it in. Better leave sooner than later.Might even be an EndAll, which means we’ll finally get paid.”

Lance leans against the syntac stall door, feeling better about things now that he knows what’s going on. There is something tight on Matthias’ face that Lance wants to chase away. “Man. Sounds so cool. You know what… I think should transfer to hunting. We all saw that I have a better aim then you guys. And the pay is way more too.”

He expects Matthias to smile harder, to tell him it's a great idea. But he doesn't, instead, he reaches forward and grabs his arms, squeezing tight “No! _Don't_ do that.”

Lance gasps at the action and tenses when he looks at Matthias’ wide eyes. “What? What's wrong.”

“Stay here, it's better. Safer. The desert, its… it's hell, you know.”

Of course, Lance knows. He shrugs off Matthias’ hands and crosses his arms. “Beast taming is dangerous too, you know.”

“Not like this. Stay out of the desert, Lance.” Matthias insists. “Hunters die all the time. It's for people who don't have… anything else. Who don't have anyone to care about them. You haven't been here long enough but Hunters don't survive long.”

“You took down four EndAlls!” Lance exclaims, gesturing at the tattoos on his head. “I think I can handle it if you can.” Matthias winces.

“Yeah, I did. Four. But I lost over a dozen friends. And now… Nat.”

Lance's stomach goes cold. “Nat?” He doesn’t understand. “I thought he went inverse?”

Matthias looks up, out into the arena, his face shadowed, older, his gaze closing darkly. “Hunters die all the time. Sometimes by the beasts, trampled or eaten. Sometimes they go mirage-dazed and sink into a sandpit. It's not…” He looks down at him, amber eyes misting over. Lance blinks in empathy. “-just, stay here okay?”

Nat. Lance can still remember his cheeky grin and his stock of red, red hair, his Tundav accent. Gone. Actually gone. Dead. The coldness in his stomach fills him and in the blistering heat of two suns, Lance shivers.

“He's not- Nat _can't_ be- He just- He's such a good guy- I can't-"

But Matthias’ eyes are hard and brittle, his face unmovable

“He was. Yeah.”

Lance nods his head, “Um. Okay. I mean, I get what you're saying. Don't become a Hunter. I… I won't promise I won't, but…” he thinks about Matthias out in the desert, seeing his friend die. “I get what you're saying.”

Matthias sighs out but then he hits at Lance's shoulders and steps back.

“I gotta go. I'll see you if I come back.”

Lance reaches out without thought, tugging at his red dust fatigue. “ _When_ you come back…” Lance emphasizes, “I'll bring you some of my grandma's cake. So… you better…” He can't imagine Matthias not coming back.

Matthias smiles soft as he flounders. “Yeah.” he finishes simply. “I better.”

 

Lance watches him, Lars and Henrik board the deck of a sand rover, the anti-gravity engines humming quietly as it lifts the hunk of rusting syntac metals. As it rises to hovering some 10 meters off the ground, ready to descend down the Colosseum plateau and into the desert, he waves to them. They wave back with a holler, the rest of the hunting group shouting as singing and Lance wonders, as the sand rover rumblings to the city, if this will be the last time he'll ever see them.

 

..

 

Lance sits in the corner of the bar booth, muted and subdued, and Hunk drops a plate of bar snacks on the table and sits beside him.

“Worried about the Hunters?”

Lance folds his arms over the table and lays his head on them. “Nat died out there. I asked Temo about it and he said the sand took him. I didn't know…”

Hunk puts down his beer, and Lance is tempted.

“Yeah. I didn't know about Nat, but Hunters have the most dangerous jobs. They even go off planet too. And recently, the GNF’s been pushing for more Solartax, and that makes the governor greedy. The Colosseum isn't pulling people as much anymore.”

Lance mumbles and then takes Hunk’s malt. Hunk slaps his hand away. “You're not drinking. You gotta get home.”

“I feel sad. And dumb and just… I don't know. What if they die, Hunk?”

Hunk swivels his drink, the alcohol sloshing, “I honestly don't know. The beast they're hunting is something from off planet. They think a Creator-freight crashed somewhere in Kinedar South and the animals managed to head up to the safeline. Which mean, whatever survived down there is gonna be an EndAll.”

That's doesn't help Lance's nerves.

Hunk grimaces. “Sorry, man, I didn't mean to make you feel worse.”

Lance shakes his head, and then picks at a fried chacho, looking at the bug’s delicate wings before popping it in his mouth.

“‘s fine. They're Hunters for a reason. They live for the adventure and danger, right?”

“I guess.”

“They'll be fine.” Lance reassures, more for himself then Hunk. “They're almost as good on the trigger as me. They'll be fine.”

Hunk squeezes his shoulder and changes the topic.

“How's the family?”

Lance sighs and leans back. “Ama called me earlier. Lulu got her Eval back today.”

“And?”

Lance grins, “Graded stable. Passed with High Marks too so that'll help.”

Hunk smiles brightly, “That's _great_!”

“Yeah. She's gonna go to first schooling in the coming cycle.”

“Your parents gonna send her to K-city?”

Lance snorts. “I doubt it. Teresa will probably freak.”

“Your sister? Why would she?”

Lance blinks at his slip up and then eats another chacho to cover his hesitance. “Lulu's her only sister. I guess she's overprotective.”

“Right. Well, I'm glad that all worked out.”

Lance nods and then bites his lips. Hunk doesn't know about Teresa and Lucia and the family arrangement. He wants to tell him and though he knows Hunk would never, secrets tend to grow sometimes.

“Yeah, me too.”

They go quiet, Lance pensive and hunching. Hunk pats him on the back. “You know Lance, I wish you would think about how much you're doing for other people once in awhile.”

Lance turns to look at him, “What?”

Hunk grins, “You're my best friend, man.” says and Takes a swing of his Malt.

Lance wishes that felt as good and Hunk meant it, but it only haunts him all the way home.

  


Lance creeps into his own house, avoiding everyone. He doesn’t accomplish it though. As he washes in his room with a bucket of his daily water, he is almost startled by his grandmother’s dark eyes watching him.  

“You look tired.”

Lance rubs his face with the towel, cleaning the dirt from his pores. “Mmm. I’m okay.”

She sits on the bed and looks at his hands, Lance tries to continue as if she’s not there.

He is tired, but more than that, he’s worried about his friends. He thinks of Matthias, ducking under a camosheet in the desert, eyes red with fatigue, waiting with the tenseness of a hunter for a beast to fight and subdue.

Lance feels it in his heart, he wishes that he comes back soon.

“Did you get those clean, Enzo?”

Lance freezes, swallows hard as he cleans off his arms. “Abue…” he begins quietly, switching over to Mezena, about to correct her but then he sees her eyes and he stops. It doesn't matter.

“No. I didn’t.”

She stares, but then she beckons him over. Lance obeys, the sting of the wrong name making him blink slowly.

“Take care of yourself, Enzo.”

“Mm. Sorry, Abue.” he says, and doesn't smile like he would, but looks away like his older brother used too, frowning and demure.

She rubs her hands together, and Lance stares as she concentrates.

His grandmother came from a long line of Valento brujas, an uncommon sect of those who find their reason in Alaveleo, the creator, and caretaker of Almeza. _Quinteneras_ they called them, scoffed at them in public but when children grew ill and Pharmas were helpless, they often turned to them in desperate hope.  

His grandmother isn't well versed in it, more mythic mutterings then anything these days, but Lance lets her believe, lets her mutter prayers in that ancient language that was hushed for three hundred years by the Galrani Empire, learned by the abolished marpeople of his home planet before integration was outlawed. If Quintessence healing is still around, it’s a weak, watered-down version. He’s never seen his grandmother heal anyone, and his own mother has always cringed at the idea of anything religious.

Lorenzo believed though, he used to tell Lance that they were special, that they had blood that would accomplish great things someday, that they weren't meant to just live. Lance believed him for a long time, dreamed of touching stars and meeting those he was forbidden to meet.

Lorenzo believed enough to leave them behind.

His grandmother places her hands on his arms above the scratches, and they feel like warmed over stones, hot on Lance’s skin, murmuring a chant under her breathe in that language that makes Lance’s hair stand on end.

It doesn't burn, just an odd warmth that seems to seep from inside out.

And then she's done, the silence overbearing after the quiet chanting. She moves away and Lance knows that soon she will realize that she is not talking to her favorite grandson but the one that was left behind the one she is stuck with and he suddenly doesn't want that.

“Abue” he calls out and reaches for her hands. “-can you teach me?”

She looks startled and Lance thinks that she's woken from her delusion.

But, no. She gives him a great smile, pride showing through. Lance smiles backup on impulse. Ama always told him that he is the spitting image of his grandmother, long and thin, smiles and freckles on even brown skin.

“Of course, Enzo.”

Lance shrugs away the name and tries to be good for once.

“Quintessence is what feeds our soul.” she starts, turning over his hands so that she can press two fingertips to the center of his hands “It is a bit of the great universe tucked inside skin and bones, but it yearns to flow with itself again.”

She lifts his hands, cups them to face each other. Heat tickles up his arms, placebo effect he thinks. If this were real, his dad would be healed. “We are all searching for unity, My child. For the ones whose Essences complete us. For some, it's one, for others its more. Its family, its lovers, or friends. Once you find them, You can do anything.”

Did that mean his grandmother hadn’t met hers? That she wasn’t meant for his grandfather, who always smiled and laughed? It's sad. Lance doesn’t like it.

The heat fades, his grandmother’s eyes clear suddenly, and Lance straightens at her quick frown. She snatches her hands away, like Lance’s arms had burned her. “Who are you?”

Lance feels the lump in his throat. “I’m Lan-”

She stands up, scowling, her voices going high and panicked. “Where is Enzo? Where is my grandson?”

Lance feels the tears fill his eyes, always so so close to the surface these days, he stands too, hovering over her, arms raised and pleading “He’s-”

She doesn’t let him finish, pushes at his weak hands and leaves the room.

Lance doesn’t cry.

For a moment there, he had felt something, a warmth, a connection.

He looks up at his ceiling and then hears Lulu stampeding through the courtyard. Lance turns to his window quickly, blinking at the wet of his eyes.

“Mami’s calling you Lance!” she shouts as she passes, and Lance almost breaks into a sob, trying to catch his breath.

The next moment, he’s standing in the kitchen, helping his mother carry a large stone grinder from one end to another.  He wants to leave but thinks maybe the suffocating silence might be worse. Ama doesn’t give him another chore though, so he heads over to the stove, looking at the bowl of batter. Slowly, he grabs a ladle and oils a pan, bringing it to the fire that is always tended under the stone stove.

“Tessa won’t be home tonight.” His mother says, not looking at him, to busy pounding the ground corn under her strong hands, “She has to stay later at the Galra house. Can you believe that? The sooner she can get out of this debt the sooner she can move on with her life. ”

Lance grunts in response. It’ll be years until Teresa can make any money. Lance doesn't feel hopeful.

“Did you say hello to your grandma?”

Lance stills, watching as the oil sizzles on the pan. Then he pours a small circle, the pan bursting into sound and oil and water meet. “She was in my room when I got him.”

His mother hums, “I told you to close your door, didn’t I?

Lance feels pressure from his chest expand to his head, his tongue growing thick in his mouth. Then: “She thought I was Enzo.” Lance says, watching the batter brown, and his mom’s hands still for a moment that stretches so long that tension builds on his shoulders.

“It was a bad day,” she says finally, movement starting up again, masa being turned over. “Don’t mind it.”

Lance doesn't feel better. He does mind it. There is so much he minds. He wants someone to care. Is he selfish for wanting that?

Saints, he is.

His grandmother is sick and all he can think about is how it hurts to be not wanted. He bites down on his trembling lip. His mother looks haggard already and he wasn’t allowed to see Apa today. It must’ve been a bad day. Being mistaken for an older brother is the least of things. But Lance can’t help but want to bite back, to quell the building bitterness inside him, the overwhelming sadness mixed with self-loathing.

“Do you ever wonder where he is?”

His mother doesn’t reply. Lance turns over the cooking pancake, regretting.

“I don’t.”

She doesn't sound bitter, doesn't sound like his mother at all, sounds like she has shut that part out of her.  “He left. It was his decision to. Wherever he is, he’s fine.”

Lance swallows down a lump forming in his throat, blinks again at sudden wetness in his eye. Lorenzo is out there living whatever dream he chased, and part of Lance admires him for being able to want and to dream and fulfill, but another part, that very strong selfish and bitter part, hates that he left, that he left them, and how things would be different if he was here.

“Yeah,” Lance says weakly and then curses because the pancake has burned. He tosses it in the compost bin and pours another.

“You go and rest. I’ll finish here.” his mother comes behind him, and Lance nods, feeling that her chasing him away as a failure on his part. That’s not her intention. At least he hopes it’s not.

 

He leaves the outdoor kitchen, steps into the house and starts to his room.

Santa scurries past him, ignoring him completely and running out the courtyard gate. Mateo must be home.

A second later, Mateo runs into the courtyard, Santa whimpering excitedly at his heels.

“Lance!” And Lance smiles, because Mateo never forgets who he is, never thinks of him as a failure, or less or extra. When Mateo runs over and hugs him around the waist, Lance almost forgets that he is unbearably miserable.

* * *

 

The week passes without much trouble. Lance tries hard to act normal, to not feel the weight of his thought physically weigh him down, but Hunk can tell. He doesn't mention it, but he does bring sweet cakes with decadent sugar whip and keeps him busy helping with anything and everything. Lance doesn't complain, and that worries most of all.

Lincinda is somehow softer on him, her words still sharp with criticism but more playful.

Lance hates how terrible he feels, how hard it is to pull up a smile or to crack a joke. He misses his friends, misses Matthias and Lars and Henrik, but that reminds him of Nat, and how Nat is dead and Lance feels guilty for feeling miserable at all.  He feels like a bother to Hunk these days, who is having his own issues with the coming inspection of the second tier arena for the elites. Hunk is alone on this planet, has friends and smiles always but he's alone and Lance is being a depressed moron around him.

He can't get a hold of himself, can't find any contentment in anything he does, but Hunk and Lincinda keep giving him this worried side-eyed look and he hates it.

He cleans stalls and feeds fledglings and tries so hard, but by the time the week ends, he's biting at the chomp to see the Hunters, to distract himself with the stories they will tell when they return.

If they return.

No, _when_ they return.

 

Lance was always too optimistic.

 

He's down in the Fawks display, running the small winged animals through the mandatory obstacle courses when he hears the warning bell of the loading dock to opening.

An EndAll Transport.

He asks one of the other tamers to cover for him and then races up the maze of hallways to the main dock.

The breakbars are rising steadily from the ground, people scurrying to get to either one side or the other, and Lance half sprints to the safezone to watch the dock door open. The hunters have returned, and this much preparation tells that they brought something back, something big enough to warrant the side door opening and the beast alarm to ring.

Lance peeks through the bars, and see the Hunters in their red dusted fatigues, a shambling group that is quiet as death, nothing like how they had departed, singing of glory and triumph.

Lane swallows hard and scans the crowd.

Matthias is nowhere to be found.

Henrik is the only one he sees and when he tries to wave at him, he looks wide-eyed and lost, almost mirage-dazed. Lance swallows back the growing bile. He can't get to him to ask where Matthias and Lars are, the metal bars of the loading area are locked up, the safety mechanism in case a beast gets loose, is a solid as the Colosseum walls

His attention is forcefully dragged away from the dwindling survivors trudging on the deck when the huge loading gates buzz open, swirling in a dust storm of red blood sand and dirt, and then…

And then the beast.

Lance looks and he sees and he fears.

It's Alvaleo, the godlion of Almeza.

Lance blinks back the thought, for _of course_ it's not, but the similarities leave him reeling. The animal is almost as large as to fill the 10 length cage, black as midnight and its wings are arced in terrifying warning, making him look like a menacing demon from nightmares. Lance can't look away, as the beast slams it's giant head against the hardlight bars, again and again as the the movers drag the hovering cage down into the caves underneath. Someone activates the offensive B-mea energy field over the bars and when the beast hits them this time, he screeches, a sound that shudders all the way through his being.

“What in Helm is that?” Temo says beside him, and Lance looks and sees he's gripping onto the energygun at his side, nervous and wary even with the foot wide bars blocking the loading deck.

“An EndAll.” Lance hears himself say, great awe and wonder. A true by saint's EndAll.

“Well blessed will be the tamer that earns heart,” Temo says. “Dieder is soon not going to be the only tamer rolling in plata.”

Lance barely hears him, much to concerned with how he feels a thrill send shivers down his spine, his blood turning to fire in his veins and he prays for answers.

How could he capture the heart of the greatest beast he has ever seen?

Lance touches the bars, his body leaning in on its own toward the monster.

When he roars again, terribly loud and dark, Lance's heart flies up with the sound into the red red sky.

Then the beast looks square at him, his eyes a stardust violet and slitted with warning, and as Lance keeps looking the beast opens his mouth on a growl that quakes the walls of the ancient Colosseum.

Everything is blood red, teeth black like charred bones on a sea of blood.

Lance has never wanted something so much before, and yet feared it with every bone in his body.

Find the beast heart?

This monster doesn't seem to have a heart at all.

* * *

 

World Notes.

 

Here is a link to a glossary for Beast Heart. I have noticed that there is just too much going on and if you would like to know more, [this ](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sX_L0js09vtKWJr4A-K7k2yAwPAEv3zfOOFL-ljnOL8/edit?usp=drivesdk)would help.  
  


As always, feel free to ask or comment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sort of back. Thanks for the comments. They really encouraged me to finish this. Good news is that I finished the outline. Bad news is that I tend to write longer and longer as the chapters progress.( I cut out 2400 words from this chapter alone)  
> I will attempt to refrain from doing that.  
> I know this chapter was dry and dreary but in the coming chapters it’ll be more action packed. Just know how Lance feels, because….. Well. yeah.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates @Storiesbytom on twitter.


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